Do Not Go Gentle
by TheWriterOfFira
Summary: "A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity, it dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path." -Agatha Christie / / Elenora Clarke is just trying to find her son, but along the way she meets a mercenary instead. F!SSxMacCready
1. Of Green and Grey

**A/N: If you're new to this story ignore this, however, if you're returning, I've melded together the 1st/2nd chapters and the 3rd/4th chapters to make the work smaller. I didn't cut chapters, nothing has changed and the work has remained the same. Enjoy!**

I was born twice: Once, as a baby girl on an unremarkably rainy Massachusetts day in July of 2050, and again as as adult woman in the wake of nuclear war.

The day started off so simple; Really, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing supernatural or strange. Only looking back on it did I realize something was wrong. Maybe I should have paid more attention to the television broadcasts those moments before. Or maybe I should've noticed why the Vault-Tec representative was pushing us so hard to reserve our spot in the Vault. Whatever it was, it didn't stop the bombs from falling. And they _fell_.

I found it amazing, when it came down to it, how few things were worth taking when the sirens rang and the television stopped broadcasting. Shaun and Nate were all that mattered, maybe they were all that _ever_ mattered.

We ran. I've never ran that fast in my life, with Shaun tucked into my arm and Nate pulling my free hand up, up, up that hill. I took a moment, only a second to look back at our house. _I will never see that home again_ , I thought, but I pushed the thought out of my mind. It's selfish, unproductive and unhelpful. All that mattered then was safety.

We were the last ones to make it to the platform. Nate took me in his arms, minding that Shaun was between us and says just loudly enough so I can hear him; "I love you. I love both of you." I was still shocked that it was all happening, that all I could say is, "We love you too." Then we were sent down, down, down. But not before we saw it: The end of the world. In all of it, I couldn't help thinking of when Nate finally came back from the Chinese campaign.

' _Home from war,_ ' he told me. Yeah right.

The ground shook and our knees buckles and the air was so hot that it felt like we were being suffocated. I held onto Shaun so tightly like he was my center of gravity, afraid that if I dropped him, I would fall off the earth. Nate's arm are wrapped around us as the platform sinks into the earth. And all I could think was, we're okay. _We're saved._

The vault.

The vault was bright and clean and sterile. In the vault, we got our jumpsuits and Nate had to hold mine for me because I was carrying Shaun. The doctor leading us down the metal hallway… I can't remember anything he told me. But I do remember squeezing Nate's hand, kissing Shaun's forehead and telling my baby, "Look honey, this is our new home." Maybe I said that more for my sake in than for my son's.

Then we're lower into the vault, and at the end of our hallway. The doctor tells us to step into a decontamination pod before heading deeper into the Vault. I should've thought that that was strange, but at the time I was so scared that I went along with it.

Nate changes into his vault suit first, so I hand him Shaun for me to change as well. Nate hands him back, and then I'm staring at the pod in front of me. I didn't realize I was shaking until Nate put his hand on my shoulder. He hugs us and kisses my forehead, "it's all going to be okay. We made it."

 _We're saved._ I thought again.

Shaun began to cry, and I tried to calm him down; "Shh… it's okay." I said, trying to cheer him up. It's wasn't working. I sigh and look to Nate, "will you hold him? I think he wants you."

He does, and cradles him in his arms. "Who's my little guy…" I hear him say faintly before he hops into his pod.

I left my old life behind forever when that door sealed shut.

And then the Vault-tec doctor, reminding me: "The vault will decontaminate and depressurize you before heading deeper into the vault. Just relax!"

I wasn't paying attention to the doctor anymore, I pressed my hand up against the cool glass, my eyes locked with Nate's. He mouthed I love you. I nodded, letting him know I understood.

"Resident secure," hummed an automated voice in the pod. "Occupant vitals; normal. Procedure complete. In five, four, three, two…" The pod hisses away, and my arms and legs freeze up, I start to panic that it's becoming harder and harder to move.

"One," echoed the voice.

The pod began to then grow cold, and I thought I was dying.

I'm alive, I'm dead. I'm alive, I'm dead…

…

I'm alive.

The view outside the door is dark, except for the omnious glow that Nate's pod gives off. I felt weird, I didn't feel safe. I wondered where the doctors were.

Then that man.

I was so disoriented at first, how could I had not have seen the gun before it happened? They opened his pod… They wanted my baby. I clawed at the glass door, banging my hands, shouting for them to stop, stop _stop_.

But they didn't stop. I don't even know if they heard me.

One woman in a blue suit that covered her whole body and face tried to take Shaun. _My_ Shaun! Nate fought with all his might be keep him in his arms, but that man. That man with the gun.

How can I describe what happened next without falling apart immediately? I suppose I'll have to say it as simply as possible: This man whom I've never met before came into our vault, he must have killed all of our doctors, and then, with two bullets, ended the love of my life.

My heart felt as if it were ripped out of thrown away from me, the feeling was truly unbearable. I felt rage, disgust, true and absolute depression. I've never lost family before that point; Perhaps a great grandmother or an uncle I didn't know but never someone like Nate. To lose family is to lose the experience of watching someone grow old with you. And to lose a husband? Well, that is like losing the sun from above you.

I raged, I swore, and then that woman in the blue suit took Shaun. I sobbed harshly inside the pod, I banged my fists and swore and raged and cursed their lives.

Then that man, with a face I'll never forget, pressed his face against my pod like somebody looking into a fish's tank. "At least we'll have the backup." His gravely voice declared.

Then they left me, alone in that pod and I felt my limbs freeze up again. I panicked, knowing I couldn't fall asleep, not now, not when Nate needed me! Not with Shaun in the arms of someone who wasn't me! I cried out as the freezing cold bit at my skin, forcing my eyes to close in exhaustion and utter defeat.

All I could think as my eyes threatened to close was, _it should have been me. Why couldn't I have taken Shaun with me? Why can't I just..._

The world grew cold, and my thoughts left my mind and against my better will, I became unconscious inside the pod again.

(-)

" _Hi honey, listen… I don't think Shaun and I need to tell you how great of a mother are but we're going to anyway!...You are kind_ -"

I flip the holotape off almost immediately. Popping the tape out, I stared at Nate's messy handwriting, ' _Hi honey!'_ It reads. His voice… I feel like I'd only heard it hours ago, but in reality it was over two centuries _. Two. Centuries._ I felt like I was going to be sick.

I stand up from the porch, dusting myself off. I wanted out of my Vault suit; it's a hot day and the Vault suit is definitely not made of cotton.

Sanctuary is destroyed. The neighborhood is burned out, debris-strewn, rat infested and sewage stained. Overturned cars and downed power-lines and trash piled up against houses by wind and water, trash blanketing yards and driveways, trash hanging from the barren tree limbs. Plastic bags and newspapers, clothing, shoes, toys, broken chairs and mattresses, TVs. It's like a cosmic giant grabbed the neighborhood with both hands and shook it as hard as he could. Seeing it like this makes the name Sanctuary seem depressing as worst and ironic at best. If I close my eyes, I can picture it before. The big block parties, the halloween decorations in everyone's front yard, Nate and Shaun…

Then I open my eyes, and the vision is gone, and hell returns.

Codsworth is inside my home, if you can call it that anymore. Everything that made it a home is gone; the carpet's are worn down and dirty, the windowed are destroyed, the furniture is scorched and threatens to collapse if I sit on it for too long. He hears me enter and the robot loudly exclaims, "Would you like a snack? I'm sure you must be starving!"

"I'd love that, Codsworth," I say weakly. Truth be told, I was hungry. And after that fight with the Bloodbugs inside my neighbor's homes and another reminder that Shaun was far, far away and Nate was farther, I felt very drained. "I'll… I'll be in the nursery."

"Of course, mum!"

Shaun's nursery. I should have prepared myself better for that. It's a disaster. The wall are burned with radiation, broken glass scatters the floors, the soft carpet is gone, and the bright colors are long since faded. His crib still standing, but his mobile, completely shattered. I took the time to rearrange his furniture, when I found Shaun, I want his room to be clean. He'd want that, I think absently.

I push his crib against the wall, I flip over the chair I nursed him with, I dust off the table I changed his diapers on. Then, in the midst of it all, I find his teddy bear; Not fluffy and a nice caramel color, with button eyes and a pleasant smile; No, it's ratty and old, the buttons are gone and the red ribbon that was tied around his neck is nowhere to be found.

I clutch the bear in my arms, hugging it tightly around my chest. I stifle a sob, but the tears come again anyway. They don't seem to come from my eyes but from deep in my gut. It's a heaving so powerful it hurts my stomach and my lungs. My eyes flood and the pain is so great, I'm certain it will kill me right here, right now. I hadn't even begun to start to look for him, and I already felt like giving up.

"Mum?" I hear Codsworth in the doorway. "Are you alright?"

I felt myself giving up- I would have if a voice hadn't made itself heard in my heart, and that voice said, 'you will not die.' I wipe a tear with the my sleeve. I turn around and face him, "I won't die, Codsworth. I refuse it."

"That's the spirit!" Codsworth replied casually, like I'd told him I'd taken another shift, or I just finished my taxes. I must have set Codsworth's positivity levels to extremely high.

I hug the bear tight, "Shaun's out there, I have to find him," I say, my voice slightly breaking when I say _him_.

"Why not try Concord, mum? Plenty of people there, and last I checked they only pummeled with sticks a few times before I had to return home!" Codsworth chirps.

"People are still alive in Concord?" I whisper, almost in shock. I know it's dumb. The bombs couldn't have killed everyone. I guess seeing my neighborhood in such a terrible state gave me the fear that I was completely alone. So I'm not the last human on Earth, but surely I must be one of the last.

One of the last. Just that thought is enough to make me check out and have my brain skip like a scratched CD: _Alone, alone, alone, Nora, you're alone._

Or not so alone as Codsworth says, "Yes although they are a bit rough. I'd stay wary were I you, mum! Haha! You remember the way?"

"I think so. Just over Red Rocket, right?"

"Right-o! And I will stay here and secure the homefront!" Codsworth whirrs around to head back into the kitchen.

"Wait, Codsworth?"

He whirrs back, "yes, mum?"

"Thank you," I spoke. "For staying around these past two centuries. I'm glad that you're here."

And Codsworth, as if he did have real tears, sounds choked up, "why, thank you, mum! Proud to serve!"

And with that, he's back in the kitchen humming to himself. I looked back at Shaun's crib, and spin his broken mobile; The slight tinkle of a lullaby lights up the room, reminding me to not give up hope. Concord, huh? Well, it's a start.

I pack up for Concord. There's a few things I always keep on my person now; They might be the only things that matter to me.

My wedding ring.

Nate's wedding ring. His dog tags, rusted and bent slightly.

Shaun's ratty old teddy bear. Not that it's mine now. Not that I'm going to cuddle with it or anything. He'll need something to play with when I find him.

Some cans of water. Nate said that one of the easiest things to forget while in combat was staying hydrated, and how many of his fellow soldiers got sick because of it. I keep it in mind as I pack extra.

A box of fancy lad snack cakes. I tried one. They're so stale, but it's food, and it's the apocalypse, so complaining is useless.

The 10mm. I've never used a gun before today. Nate wanted to show me how, but I couldn't do it. I just wasn't soldier material. Now, what I wouldn't give for a lesson.

Ammo too, as much of it as I could find.

The holotape Nate made. Maybe one day I'll get through it all. But it's definitely not today.

Stimpaks and gauze. Just in case. If anyone in Concord would beat Codsworth, the sweetheart that he is, I fear my own health.

Bobby pins. I didn't have a hair tie on me when I entered the Vault. Stupid. I might have to cut it.

That was it. But I wished there was more. There's so much gone from my home that I want. Specifically, I want my law degree. Either it was burned up by radiation or eroded over the years, or whatever, but it's gone now. Seven years of my life and a lot of late nights, but what shows for it? Certainly not the frame because somehow that's gone too.

I'm out for Concord within thirty minutes. I couldn't stay in Sanctuary long; too many memories. Codsworth is right there to escort me out, telling me to be safe. He claims he has to stay here and protect the house. I understand that he's scared; He's no Mr. Gutsy. Then again, neither am I but I've got more drive than he.

At the bridge is where I leave him, "Bye, Codsworth. Stay safe, honey."

"And you as well, Ms. Nora! Oh dear, do be careful."

"I will. Concord's not far," I say, peering into the horizon. "If all goes well, and I get some information, I'll be back here by sunset to make plans."

Then I'm gone.


	2. War of Wills

The world was a clock winding down. Now, the clock is broken and we have to survive the aftermath.

That's all this is; A shit ton of aftermath.

I found a dog. I found survivors in Concord, and damn, talking to them really solidified that all of this was real and not some drug-induced dream. We talked for ten minutes, then I'm in a suit of military power armor and battling a damn dinosaur-Deathclaw- _-whatever_ , for them.

Did I mention I hadn't shot a gun up until today? Because I haven't. So why the hell was I the one in power armor? Hell if I know, but I was pretty pissed that it had to be me. I'm not unfamiliar to power armor, it's military. And even if I wasn't the military one from my family, I still know how it works.

It dawns on me while fighting that monster that the Universe has got beef with me. I don't know what I did yet, but if I've got a problem with it, I'll have to take it up with God.

That's what I've been doing today, taking it up with God.

I had the Vault-tec Rep come to my home just minutes before the sirens rang. Saved from the bombs so I could personally watch my husband die. Spared by not being the parent to take Shaun into the pod, only have him taken away from me. Just so I could die from friggin' Godzilla two hundred years later.

Had, saved, spared. It doesn't really matter. The lizard is going to kill me and that's how a mother's love dies; Panicked, and with a resolve slowly dying in her heart.

Or, it's how I would have died if I didn't have Preston shooting from the roof. He's taking point just long enough for me to rush over behind a building and chuck one of those grenades Preston gave me. I duck my head and cover it with both arms.

I count the seconds it should take for it to explode with my heart beating in my chest and my blood rushing to my ears.

The explosion is loud enough to signal raiders in a 50 mile radius, and big enough to see from Sanctuary. But who cares? Godzilla lies dead in the rubble of an abandoned Concord. I'm shaking like hell and the ringing in my ears makes it hard to concentrate. I'm afraid of a raider sneaking up on me out in the open like this, so I rush back to the Museum of Freedom with Dogmeat as quickly as I can.

I pop my helmet off as soon as I could once I'm safe inside the museum and chuck it across the room, I take off the power-armor and fall onto the ground in exhaustion. I felt horrified and impressed with myself as the same time; I had ended human lives, but I could take care of myself in this world. I wiped the sweat from my brow, and take a second to catch my breath. Holy _crap_ , I was out of shape. I wished I ran more before the world ended.

I meet up with the Concord survivors at the entrance into the museum with the banners and symbols of an old world waving behind us.

Preston rushes up to me and is laughing. _He's laughing_. I didn't know people still did that. "Okay, that was impressive."

I'm still catching my breath, "I can't… never again. Holy shit, that was a dinosaur. Was that a dinosaur? I fought a dinosaur…" I can't stop babbling.

"Deathclaw," Preston reminds me. Then, the rest of the survivors trickle in one by one. "Is everyone okay?" He asks.

"We'd be better if we got out of this forsaken town," points out Marcy as she brushes past me. "How far to Sanctuary anyways, Murphy?"

My body shoots back up, "you're heading to Sanctuary?"

"Oh, you're familiar with it?" Preston asks.

"I lived there before-" I stop myself. I don't know these people, they don't know me, and if human nature has taught me anything, nobody likes what they can't understand. And what's happened to me cannot be easily understood. "I live there. It's not far, just over Red Rocket."

Not a lie, just a fact.

"We've been on the road for a while trying to get there," Preston says. "We've been thinking about setting up shop there."

"Setting up shop," Marcy laughs. "We're only going there because Mama Murphy had the bright idea while she was stoned out of her gourd!"

"You got a better idea, Marcy?" Sturges interjects. "Oh, you don't. So we're still going to Sanctuary then."

Preston looks over to me, "You wanna tag along?"

I nod, where else was I gonna go? Besides, if I help these people more, there's always the possibility that they saw Shaun.

I head back in my power armor, and in no time we're back in Sanctuary, crossing the bridge. The sun is setting quickly and dusk falls.

I take off my power armor helmet so Codsworth can see it's me. I wave when I see him on my front porch. Then I take off the power armor completely, and keep it in my front yard.

Preston smiles and tells his friends that this place will be different, but I didn't want to hear the speech, I'm back in my old home taking off my boots and getting ready to sleep on my couch tonight; My old mattress is nowhere to be seen. Codsworth is attempting to dust the shelves of my very empty pantry. When he sees me inside the home, beaten and bruised and with a slight limp, Codsworth drops his rag. "Mum! You don't look like yourself! Must not let the hubby catch you looking like that, hmm?"

Maybe Codsworth didn't understand when I told him, or maybe it's how he copes. Either way, hearing him talk about Nate makes me want to sob. "Believe me Codsworth, he won't catch me looking like this." I mutter, heading into the kitchen.

I'm sorting through the ammo I found today on my dining table when I hear a knock at my door. Standing up, I answer the door; It's Mama Murphy.

"Oh. Hello." I say. A moment passes. The old woman smiles as her eyes search me all over, like she's taking me all in, which makes me feel uncomfortable. I look back into my kitchen, Dogmeat's sleeping on the floor. I shift on my feet, then, "Do you want some coffee?" Do I even have something to make coffee? Maybe I do. I've got no idea.

She chuckles and scoots past me, letting herself in. Pushing aside my annoyance, I close the door behind her, "I'm sorry, did you want something?"

She looks all around my house, inspecting the furniture, the empty shelves. "You can fool the others, but not _me_ kid," she says, taking a seat on my couch. "I can sense your energy. It's tied to this place."

 _She knows everything. She's knows you're a friggin popsicle. She saw the vault suit you so desperately tried to hide under that raider's longcoat._

I wave Codsworth out of the room, then, folding my arms across my chest, I ask, "what do you mean?"

"I know you lived here. And I've seen your heartbreak. But I can tell you now, your son is out there."

At that point, I didn't care how she knew that, I was desperate. So desperate that I grabbed her frail shoulders with both hands and looked her dead in the eyes. "You've seen my baby?" My voice cracks slightly on _baby_. "Please, if you know anything... "

Mama Murphy sighs and waves me off of her, "I'm sorry, kid. The Sight only goes so far," she sighs and looks away.

I couldn't help it, I started shaking, I stood up again and clasped a hand around my mouth, _it's a start. He's alive._ "The Sight? I… I, okay, Mama Murphy, you have to give me something better than that." Then I add, "Please, he's all I have left."

Her eyes look at me with pity, "not even I need the Sight to tell you where to start looking."

"Where?"

She stands up and puts a hand on my shoulder, then waves her hand in the air, "the great, green jewel of the Commonwealth: Diamond City."

"Diamond City? Is my son there?" I ask.

"I dunno, kid. Bring me some jet later, then we'll talk."

It's not want I want, but it's enough. I envelope her into a hug, "thank you," I whisper. "Thank you so much."

"Ah, kid," she says trying to wriggle her way out, "you're making an old girl blush."

"Where is it?" I ask, pulling out of our hug, "can you mark it on my Pip-boy?"

"Ah, sure," she says. "For all that help with the raiders this morning."

I smile gratefully, and give her my Pip-boy so she can mark it on my map.

She plays with the dials for a moment, figuring them out, then, "I thought you might need to know where it was, everyone in the Commonwealth knows where Diamond City is. But seeing as how you crawled out of that ice box..."

I froze-well, not literally. "How'd you-"

"The Sight, kid, it knows all, and I know you're just hoping all of this is a bad dream you can't wake up from, but it's not," she says, handing back my Pip-boy. "It's south of here, just over the river."

I stare at destination on my map; It's so far away. My throat feels dry. I look back up, "Don't tell the others. I don't want them to look at me differently."

"They already _are_ looking at you differently," Mama Murphy says. "You saved us today. We won't forget it."

"I just threw a grenade," I admit. Which, _okay_ , was pretty big for me. But I don't want Murphy getting the wrong impression of me.

Mama Murphy nods, sucking her cheeks together, "Okay, kid. You can tell them when you're ready."

I exhaled, "thank you."

Mama Murphy peeks behind me, "Dogmeat's got a good owner. You take care of him, now."

"Is he yours?"

"No, he's more of a free spirit, does what he wants," she says with a wink, leaving the house. I watched her go, hoping she'd keep her promise.

Codsworth enters the room once she's gone. "Ms. Nora? I do hope you don't mind, but I listened in to your conversation. So, the young Shaun? Do you know where to look?"

"Yes, I'm leaving tomorrow," I tell him. If Mister Handy robots could show emotion, he was certainly doing a good job as his arm motors lower in disappointment. "Don't worry, Codsworth, I'm coming back, I just need to follow this lead. Then…"

"Don't worry about me, old mum," his sensors move up, "I'll make sure your home is protected while you are gone! It's my job, you know."

I looked down at my map again; Diamond City was miles away, and I was stuck here low on resources, friends and abilities. "I need a drink," I think aloud.

"Mum," buzzes Codsworth. "You don't drink."

"Yeah, I've been meaning to start," I reply, rubbing my eyes. "I'll be outside, okay?"

I found myself wandering back to the entrance to Vault 111. I figure that someday I'll have to bury Nate, but it definitely couldn't be today. The sun has already set by the time I'm on top of the hill. Diamond City is out there somewhere, and so is Shaun.

I clicked back open my holotape slot, and put the _Hi Honey!_ tape back inside, and begin playback.

" _You are kind, and loving, and funny, that's right, and patient. So patient, patience of a saint as your mother used to say. Look, with Shaun and us all being home together it's been an amazing year but even so I know our best days are yet to come-"_

The last phrase sticks in my mind like flypaper. I click the tape off again. Shaking my head, I knew I couldn't do it all today. Not with Nate's corpse beneath my feet.

Like Mama Murphy said, I had to stop hoping so much that it was all a dream. I should not count on help. Survival has to start with me. Survival starts by paying attention to what is close at hand and immediate. To look out with idle hope is tantamount to dreaming one's life away.

There was much I had to do.

I look out at the desolate wasteland. There's so much destruction. And I was alone. All alone.

I burst into hot tears. I bury my face in my crossed arms and sobbed. My situation was hopeless.

(-)

I helped Preston around Sanctuary for a while before heading to Diamond City, finding ways to purify water, making beds for the Minutemen, scavenging for food in my neighbor's homes. Eventually, I had to leave Sanctuary and find Shaun. Helping others was great and all, but I needed to help myself and find Shaun. I took Dogmeat and left.

Two weeks to get to Diamond City. Two weeks of clawing for survival, jumping at every shadow, shooting at anything that moved. Two weeks without hot water or any personal care for that matter.

'Diamond City' was Fenway Park. I wasn't all that into sports back in the day, but my father loved it. He loved it in the summer, crowded and with a cold beer in one hand and my mother in the other. He loved the teams, he loved the buzz in the air that came from being there. He loved the Boston Red Sox. Nate liked it too, in fact, when he met my parents for the first time, it was bringing up Fenway that saved his skin. I remember it very clearly, Nate and my father laughing about the Red Sox and baseball and afterwards when he went home, my father telling me, "He's a good one, Elenora."

But the word Fenway means nothing now, and in it's place, Diamond City exists.

I don't remember how it happened, it all happened so quickly, but the only reason I got in was by agreeing to be interviewed. At the time, I didn't think much of it. Now, I wish I just took my chances with the guards.

"You ready for that interview, Blue?" Piper wastes no time as I step into Publick Occurrences with Dogmeat right behind me.

I shrug my pack off and lay it on her doorstep, "Depends on what kind of interview this is."

"I ask you who you are, get your opinion on life out there, and load up on a few tough questions to keep it interesting. What do you say?"

"And then you'll tell me who can help me?" I ask.

"I promise." Piper says. I agree. "Great!" She says, pulling a pen from under her ear and slapping a stick of gum between her teeth. Her mouth chomps wildly for a moment, then, "So I know you're from a Vault. How would you describe your time on the inside?"

 _Be honest. She'll help you if you're honest._ "My family and I were frozen. I didn't spend much time in the Vault."

"What do you mean frozen?" She asks, scribbling at her paper.

I tried to think of an easy way to describe it, "like we were put in cryo pods and boxed up for years, truthfully, I couldn't have been in the vault for more than a half hour."

"Cryo pods," Piper echoes, then her eyes narrow. "Do you… were you alive before the war?"

I throw my hands up in defeat, "You know, I've been here for like, two weeks, and in all that time, people just throw around the phrase 'the war' like I'm supposed to know what it is. Which war?"

Piper's eyebrows almost seem to fly off, she's like a kid at Christmas. "O-oh my _God_ ," she smiles. "You really don't know? The war that gave us the lovely barren landscape and destroyed building you can see every five feet? You know, The Great War? Blew up the world in two hours?"

My jaw dropped. "It took two hours?" I whisper. That's insane. _Ten thousand years to build civilization, two hours to tear it down_. "I saw the bombs that day," my mouth is as dry as a desert. "I saw them fall in the Commonwealth. My family and I were put in the Vault just seconds after it they fell."

"You have no idea the type of questions I want to ask you," Piper breathes, scribbling everything down like mad. "What was it like, the world, back then?"

I hesitated in remembering; a few weeks was a lifetime when one always had to remain in combat. "The greenest grass you could ever imagine, blue skies, cars so you didn't have to walk everywhere, dependable neighbors, hot water… I mean, it wasn't all lemonade and sunshine, we had our problems, but it was home."

"Problems?"

"We all lived in fear that the bombs would eventually drop. I had nuclear bomb drills I had to do while I was in elementary school. As I grew up, I was so accustomed to the fear that I got used to it, figured it wouldn't really happen, at least not in my lifetime. Until it did."

"And where you when the bombs fell?"

"At home, with my family," I say. "I usually was, I was on maternity leave from work. I had just given birth to Shaun just a few months prior. It occupied most of my time."

"I'll bet," Piper says. "Try raising a little sister sometime. So what'd you do for a living?"

That's something I was proud of. That's something I could talk about. "I practiced law."

"A lawyer, huh?" Piper smiled, "tell me, what was justice like back then?"

"I made sure everyone got a fair trial, that they didn't get ruled over by the system."

"A guardian of the downtrodden, huh?" Piper smiles at me, and returns to her notebook. "And your husband? What'd he do?"

"He was a soldier," I fidget in my chair.

"He _fought_ in the war? That's… wow, that's a lot. Tell me, why'd he join up?"

"Well, it's not like he wanted to," I defend. _Déjà vu,_ it's the same thing I had to tell people when I told them we were canceling the wedding until he got back. I remember the annoyance I felt, and the pity stares I got before I explained it, and the question that hung in the air, _he'd rather fight in war than marry you? Must be afraid of commitment._ "He was drafted, a few weeks after we had gotten engaged. We had to wait three years before we got married. I worked on my degree while he was away, I was a lawyer for a full year before he came back."

"He was drafted? What'd he do before?"

"Actually, he studied nuclear fusion. We met in college through some friends," I paused, twisting my wedding ring around my finger, "Can we talk about something else now?"

"Sure," Piper says, flipping pages in her notebook. "So, you came all this way looking for someone. Who is it?"

I guess I have to talk about Shaun now. "My baby, Shaun. The last time I saw him was through the glass window of a cryo pod. He was… taken. He's not even a year old."

"The parent after her missing child, as heartbreaking today as it ever was. Tell me, do you suspect the Institute is involved?"

After a brief rundown from Piper of who they were, the Commonwealth's boogieman, all I can say is, "I don't know."

"That's what makes them terrifying. No one ever does."

 _Change the subject._ "Shaun's my _raison d'être._ " I explain, "He's all I've got left."

"Could you repeat that phrase?"

"Sure, it's french, it's _raison d'être._ It means 'reason for being'."

"So you're bi?"

I raise an eyebrow, "excuse me?"

Piper blushes, losing her smile. "Bilingual! I meant bilingual, I just- _ahem_." She flusters, tilting her head down so I can't she her blush. I laugh, and I'm certain it's the first time I've laughed in forever. "Yes, I can speak french. But it was just a phrase back in the day."

"Great, that's great to know…"She says writing it down. "So where'd you learn French?"

"I studied it in high school and college, and my foster mom was French. She wanted me to learn it."

"Foster mom?"

"I was adopted, yeah. By this great couple, Mr. and Mrs. Able."

"So… Elenora Able, huh?"

"Clarke," I correct. "I'm keeping my late husband's surname."

"Alright," she says. "So I want my readers to know what keeps you going," Piper says. "What makes you survive in this harsh wasteland?"

I answer as honestly as I can. It takes me a moment to say it, but eventually: "Fear keeps me from thinking too much about my family and my tragic circumstances. Fear pushes me to go on living. I hate it, yet at the same time, I'm grateful." I pause, trying to figure out how to word it. Then, "it's the plain truth: without fear, I wouldn't be alive."

This sparks her interest, "what are you afraid of?"

I felt myself closing off, "Is this going in the paper?"

"Hopefully, all of this goes in the paper," she says. "This is good stuff."

"I'm afraid of dying," I say. "That's it."

"Blue, the whole reason I started this paper was to find the truth. I'm not sure that you're giving me everything. You good to keep going?"

 _Yes. No. Dear God, how far do I have to go to keep my promise?_

I nod my head solemnly, "I understand. But that's all there is. I'm just afraid of dying. Anyway, are we done?"

"Yes, this is really great info, thank you," she says, flipping her notebook down. "So, I agreed to help you now, didn't I? Well, there is someone in town who can help with your missing person problem. He's a detective, just here in the city. I'll take you to his agency."

 _About time._ "Let's go now," I urge, standing up and snatching my backpack from the ground. The teddy bear's head peaks out of the top. If Piper notices, she doesn't say anything. _C'mon Mr. Bear_ , I think. _It's time to get you back to your owner_.

Next to Dogmeat, I considered the teddy bear my bestie of besties. Always by my side, even at night, burrowed into my sleeping bag with me, faithful and true. With all the rumors I've heard about the Institute so far, in the Commonwealth, you can't trust that people are even people. But you can trust that your teddy bear is still your teddy bear.

We move into the market, going into a maze of alleys. The sun had passed overhead and was descending behind the skyscrapers to the west. The air was cold in the October chill, but an occasional warm breeze funneled between the buildings, picking up whirlwinds of garbage from the gutters. A block or so from the market, pedestrians pool on the sidewalks and gossiping about Institute spies living among them.

Shanty homes and buildings eventually melded into _Nick Valentine's Detective Agency_. Blinking in a bold neon red, the sign lit up a heart with an arrow stuck in it.

"Valentine," I test the words in my mouth. _Why does that name sound familiar?_

"This is the place," Piper says. "C'mon let's head inside. If anyone can find your kid, this place can."

 _Don't jinx me._ "Knock on wood," I say, tapping my fist on the wall.

"What's that mean?" Piper asks, holding the door open for me.

"It's just some superstitious phrase, pre-war, it's nothing…" I trail off, walking inside. The detective agency was small and claustrophobic. Many file cabinets overflowing with folders and jammed in papers boxed in a figure in the corner looking over files. The room smelled of whiskey and cigarette smoke. On the desk in front sat a radio playing a slow jazzy song, one with trumpets and saxophone.

The dark figure in the corner was slowly muttered to themselves, pulling items out of a cardboard box.

"Excuse me," I say. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh," the figure turns around, revealing a young woman. "I'm afraid you're too late, the office is closed."

I don't skip a beat, "When are you open tomorrow?"

"No, you don't understand, it's just… the detective. He's gone missing," she frowns.

 _Why. Why does everything have to be hard? Why couldn't he have been here?_

"Nicky's missing?" Piper asks. "What's he gotten himself into this time?"

I ignore that, "Okay. Okay, do you know where I can find him? Please, it's important."

"He disappeared working a case," she explains. "Skinny Malone and his gang had kidnapped a young woman and he tracked them down to their hideout in Park Street Station. There's an old Vault under there-"

"Park street station," I mutter, switching on my Pip-boy. "That's only… what, two miles north of Fenway?" I look up, "I can find the detective for you."

The woman cups a hand to her mouth, "you have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that."

 _I'm not doing it for you or the detective._ "What can I expect there?"

"Thugs, probably. Anyone bad enough to run with Skinny Malone probably isn't good."

I exhaled, _this'll take two hours at most. You'll be back here soon enough and everything will work out and it'll be great. Just friggin' peachy._ "Who's Skinny Malone anyway?"

"You don't know? I thought everyone-" She looks me up and down. "Oh, vault dweller." She says, like that explains everything. "Skinny Malone's a mob boss, in charge of the Triggerman. He's operating inside a Vault underneath the subway."

"A mob boss named Malone?" I ask, then with a chuckle, "is 'Skinny' code name for Bugsy?"

"Bugsy?..." Piper trails.

"Yeah, you know, like _Bugsy Malone_? It's this cute movie about kids who act like adults…" I realize that neither of them know what I'm talking about, so I shut up pretty quickly after that. I cough, "If that's it, with any luck I'll be back here tomorrow. Miss…?"

"Ellie, Ellie Perkins," she says shaking my hand. "I'm the secretary here. When you find Nick, tell him my name, he'll be sure to trust you."

"Right, thanks." I'm out of Valentine's quicker than how I came in. Two miles north, huh? Maybe a fifteen minute drive pre-war if traffic wasn't too bad. Now, that's a hour walk. Longer if I encounter raiders. I shiver just thinking about it. Raiders were merciless, cruel, and unkempt.

I'm so lost in thought of getting getting there, I hardly notice Piper trying to get my attention. "Uh, Blue? So, Skinny Malone. Sounds dangerous. Maybe you need some help, have someone watching your back?"

I stop my mouth from dropping, "you want to travel with _me_?"

"It beats getting paper cuts and reading hate mail," she admits. "And I want to see how this story turns out. It sounds interesting."

A smile tugs on my lips, "Well," I looked down at Dogmeat, who looks at me with the biggest brown eyes I've ever seen. "I guess we could have one more."

"Sounds like a plan, Blue." She smiles. "Meet me at the Publick at seven."

Piper points me the direction back where the market and inn is, and says she'll see me in the morning. At the market, I buy a few things; A bright red ribbon I tie around Dogmeat's neck, a few cans of purified water, a bar of soap, hair ties, more ammo and my dinner. I spend the bottlecaps Preston gave me for helping out with his raider problem.

I got a room in this place called Dugout Inn, and let me tell you, seeing a real mattress after two weeks of a full on urban camping experience was the greatest experience I had had in that Commonwealth yet. I locked my door, threw my pack on the couch and started working on unlacing my boots. Once I'm out of the grime of my day clothes, I pull Mr. Bear out of my backpack and flop into bed, with Dogmeat on my lap. I set my Pip-boy alarm to go off around six.

Then it's quiet, and in the darkness of my room, I whisper, "Mr. Bear, am I ever gonna find Shaun?"

I've been talking to this bear recently like it's the damn volleyball from Cast Away.

 _Yeah, Nora. Sure you are, and when you do, everything's gonna be great._

And I go, "Thanks, Mr. Bear. You're a doll."

 _I'm a teddy bear._

"Sorry." Dogmeat perks his head up, "Not you, boy."

I kiss the top of the teddy bear's head and curl up into a tight ball. Park Street Station seemed so far away, even if it was pretty close, but a mob boss? Holy shit, is that too much for me. I want Shaun back, but I'm not a miracle worker. I'm not even good with a gun. Some days, I'm just scared and scared isn't what I want to be.

I'm glad I've got Dogmeat with me, I've always wanted a dog, and it's nice to have some company and to not lose myself in the loneliness and old memories. Don't get me wrong, the memories are fine. Memories can bring comfort. But memories can also shut you down, becoming an army of temporal ghosts hell-bent on forever haunting you.

* * *

When my alarm rings in the morning, I'm up quickly and out of the door in five minutes. If there's one good thing about the wasteland, I don't need to worry about how I look anymore. We _all_ look like shit.

Dogmeat and I walk over to the Publick together. I'm about to knock on the door when I heard a yelling in the square. And, yeah, I should have just left it alone. I should have listened to that little voice in my head.

Instead, I listened to the yelling, and I'm walking over to Diamond City Market before I'm aware it's happening.

A man is aiming a gun at another man's face. I took a step back, hushing Dogmeat's growls. I try to listen for a reason why someone would aim a gun at someone's, but the shouting is too loud.

Then:

"I swear I'm not a synth, for God's sake, _we're family_!"

I gripped the ends of my backpack, afraid to see how this would turn out, I look around, "c'mon Dogmeat, we should go…"

An angry looking guard brushes past me, gun in hand. "Put the gun down, now." He says each word with a pause, his voice is low and deep.

"He's a synth, he'll kill us all!" Shouts the man pointing the gun.

The time moves slowly then. What happens next can only be described as a series of snapshots, like freeze-frame stills from an art house movie, with those jerky handheld camera angles.

SHOT 1: Me pulling out my goddamned bear like I'm a goddamn toddler, backing out of the square.

SHOT 2: The man who's aiming the gun at his brother is about to squeeze down on the trigger.

SHOT 3: The guard notices and slams his fingers down on his machine gun. _PAT-PAT-PAT._

SHOT 4: The man falls out the ground, his face a bloody pulp. " _Kyle, no_!"

SHOT 5: The people in the square remain silent.

SHOT 6: The final frame. The guard stands over the man's dead corpse, as the man accused to be a synth is put in handcuffs. "Show's over. There are no synths in Diamond City. Here me? Everyone get back to their jobs."

He couldn't have been much older than me. Late twenties, early thirties, but he was dead. Then I realized a very important thing; In the Commonwealth, the first rule is to not trust anyone. It doesn't matter what they look like. The Institute is smart about that-okay, they're smart about everything.

Then I wondered if Piper would ever do that same thing to me, if she'd ever accuse me of being a Synth and put a gun on me. _If she would do it to her mayor, what are the chances she would do it to you?_

That's the moment I didn't need a little voice to tell me what to do. It was obvious, a no-brainer. Run.

I took Dogmeat and booked it out of Diamond City as quickly as I could, not planning to come back until I had Nick Valentine with me. For now, I needed to roll solo.


	3. Of the People, For the People

The first rule of surviving the Commonwealth is don't trust anyone. It doesn't matter what they look like. Even if the stranger is a sweet old lady, even if the suspect is your brother, you can't know for certain-you can never know-that they aren't one of them: A synth for the Institute. Or that the Institute got's it out for you and your family. Or that the Institute has your family, and there isn't a loaded .45 behind every smile, every gesture they give you.

It isn't unthinkable. And the more you think about it, the more thinkable it becomes. The threat of the Institute is so effective because no one really knows what they stand for. Maybe that's why the Institute, or at very least, the _idea_ of the Institute scares so many people. Because if the enemy looks just like you, how do you fight them? Who can you trust when the face of the enemy is someone as simple as your brother?

 _Don't go there, Nora. Just… Think about something else._

But I can't, because I hear the short lived sound of a scuffle, a whisper then-

 _POCK!_

All of my senses erase for a moment, and my first instinct is to squeeze my eyes shut and try to find the nearest hole in the ground. I felt very exposed, very under prepared, and very, very small. I rushed toward some kind of cover. _Just one hour. One hour where I'm not shot at. Then I'll-_

An explosion of pain just above my knee- I look down, a pool of blood stains the cartoonish blue of my vault suit. I buckle, tripping over a pile of garbage. I'm on my stomach. I panic immediately, my head is spinning. I felt like throwing up, I was so scared.

 _Should've taken your chances with Piper._

Dogmeat is freaking out, barking at shadows. I still can't see the man who shot me, but I know if I stay on the ground, I'll die. I'm on my elbows, my whole body shaking under the pressure on my elbows, the blood loss, the fear of dying. I crawl under an abandoned car. I turn over to lay on my back, my whole body shudders. I scoot my backpack to be on top of me, and searched wildly for a stimpak. I felt one and grasp it tightly, plunging it into my thigh.

I bite my tongue so I don't scream, moaning terribly instead. Tears sting my eyes, the pain is so great, I'm sure I'll never walk again.

I heard more shots ring out across the street. Footsteps. Whoever shot me is coming closer. Dogmeat's head pokes under the car, staring at me. He's whining terribly, and I'm think, _Nora. Use your damn gun._

I load the pistol, and take a deep breath. Then, an explosion. A real one. It hits directly overhead, blowing up the building the car is parked, must've been a grenade. I hear clanking on the hood of the car as chunks of concrete as big as my fist rain down. The panic in my heart, the ringing in my ears from the explosion, and the loss of blood...all of it conspires to pull me down. From a distance, I can hear someone screaming-and then I realize it's me.

 _You have to get up. You have to get up. You have to keep your promise to Nate…_

No. Not Nate. Nate's dead. You left him behind. You didn't even bury him. You're keeping your promise to Shaun.

Damn, it hurts. The pain of wounds that bleed and the pain of the old wound that will not heal.

Nate, with me underneath the car.

I can see his hand reaching for me in the dark.

 _I'm here, Nate. Take my hand._

Reaching for him in the dark.

(-)

Nate pulls away, and I'm alone again.

Then I make a decision. I will not die. I refuse it. I will make it through this nightmare. I will beat the odds, as great as they are. I have survived so far, miraculously. Now I will put in all the hard work necessary.

My face set to a grim and determined expression. I speak in all modesty as I say this, but I discovered at that moment that I have a fierce will to live. I can't give up; I have to fight. I will fight no matter the cost of battle, the losses I take, the improbability of success. I fight to the very end. It's not a question of courage, it's a question of if I want my son to live. The answer is yes. The answer will always be yes. I have an inability to let him go.

 _Both_ of them go.

Sliding onto my stomach, I crawl behind the car so whoever's fighting me can't see where I'm coming from. I'm not underneath the car anymore. Then I'm on my knees. Then hands. My elbows quiver, my wrists threaten to buckle under my own weight. Tick tock. Whoever's shooting at me is going to notice I'm not under the car soon.

 _For Shaun._

I crawl.

 _For Shaun._

I fall.

 _For Shaun._

I get up.

Even if I could see my enemy, I can't shoot anything for shit. I whistle Dogmeat over, and I shuffle down the alleyway, keeping one hand on the buildings to steady myself, Dogmeat rushing ahead. Then, Dogmeat stops and barks wildly. I think it's a raider he sees, but it's not.

My savior comes in the form of a blue and red neon sign that reads: GOODNEIGHBOR. Dogmeat mercilessly barks at it, forcing me to look at it. _I'll take it. I'll take anything._

Tick tock. _Go faster._ I limp as quickly as I can over to the front doors. I heard the footsteps come loud down the alleyway, so I start to sprint. I could feel the hot, sticky blood running down my leg. My sweaty fingers grasp the door handle. I fling it open with Dogmeat heading in first. Once we're both in, I slam the door shut, and in a wave of exhausting, I slide down the wall. Breathing heavily, I wipe the sweat from my brow, which just results in me getting my blood all over my face.

 _I'm alive. Holy shit, I'm alive._

I pressed a hand to my bloody leg, applying pressure, I groan in frustration. "I need a doctor!" I yell. "Dogmeat, go find help." I mutter.

Dogmeat barks affirmatively, and runs off towards the shops. One of the shopkeepers, this woman comes over with Dogmeat. My vision's a bit blurry at this point, so I can't get a real good look at her, but she could be literally anything and I'd welcome her with open arms. "Ah shit," growls the woman's voice. "Okay, give me your hand."

My shake hands fumble into hers and she pulls me up in one swoop. I link my arm around her neck and she pulls me into the settlement. "I need to hide," I moan. "Those people who shot me are outside… They'll-" I take a breath, I needed to focus on breathing.

"Easy, scavver, probably just raiders… They do it for fun, they won't bother you unless you walk on their turf… Just, hold on, there's a doctor in the city."

Even in the chill of October, I'm sweating heavily, my body is going into panic mode. I clutch onto this woman's shoulder as tightly as I can as she guides me through an alleyway to a large square and a warehouse that reads in bright neon red: MEMORY DEN.

" _I'm too old for this sorta shit,_ " She grumbles. She guides me inside, Dogmeat following suit. I felt myself losing consciousness from blood loss and my eyes are still ringing from the grenade explosion. "Amari! Some scavver got shot, get in here and help me!"

I blink, feeling dizzy, I felt my knees buckle from under me. The pain in my leg is unbearable. The woman holding me pushes me upright, "Hell no- I did not leave my shop during rush hour for you to die. _Amari!_ "

I'm conscious enough to see an older woman in front of me, "Daisy! What happened?"

"I told you, she got shot," she breathes.

The other woman-Amari, gives me her shoulder to lean on and takes me down a flight of stairs, "You know I'm not this kind of doctor? I treat mental illnesses-"

"Oh, so what would you have prefered? I take her to Fred Allen and she's so stoned she can't feel the pain anymore? Give her a stimpak and bind it, I'm not asking the world."

"Quickly, get Irma, tell her to bring me a needle and thread, scissors, water and a clean rag," Amari says. We're down the stairs finally, and she leans me down on a couch. "Hold still, I'm inserting a stimpak, just-"

I bite my tongue so my scream doesn't deafen her, I slam my first into the couch, tears pooling around my eyes. Then, a soothing warmth spreads through my leg. My relief is so great, it takes the wind right out of me. I can't even offer a thank you.

"We'll have to cut away your suit to get to the wound... Irma! There you are hand me the scissors…"

Doctor Amari goes to work, _snip, snip, snipping_ away the suit around my knees. I almost fainted when I saw all the blood. She lifts my leg up, observing the other side. "Well, you're lucky. The bullet went all the way through. That might have saved your life."

I laughed, because, what else could I do? I just let her do her thing, and I tried to relax as best as I could. They cleaned my wound with alcohol and water. Then, agonizingly, they had to stitch it up with a dull needle and sewing thread. I wished I could say I took it well, but I've got no pain tolerance. I held onto my teddy bear so tight, I was afraid I'd pop it's head off. Dogmeat whins madly to the side, until he can't take it and crawls up next to me. Irma sees how I'm handling it, and in-between giving Amari supplies, she hands me the bottle of alcohol. I took a huge swig of it, and Irma's so shaken up by seeing me like this, she takes a drink herself.

When it's over, Doctor Amari binds it with a clean rag and duct tape. "I wished we had better, but we're fiercely underprepared. Our clients usually only come in for, well, _mental_ treatments."

I nod my head, my whole body is shaking like mad from the shock. "Thank you," I gasp. Then I snatch my backpack from the couch, pulling out a sack of caps. "I think there's fifty in there. Does that cover it?" My voice sounds scratchy, like I haven't spoken in days.

Irma pockets the sack, "It'll do just fine, honey." She says, "glad to be of service," then she's gone back upstairs.

Amari stays around a bit longer, and gives me a wet rag, "You've got some blood on your forehead," she points out.

"Thank you," taking the rag, I sit Mr. Bear right next to me. Doctor Amari nods and stands up, taking off her lab coat, which is smeared with my blood. I felt like apologizing for it, but I had muttered sorry about a thousand times while they were cleaning my leg, I felt like I'd annoy her by saying it again.

Amari brushes her skirt, and I guess she said this for lack of anything else to talk about; "What's your teddy bear's name?"

"Shaun."

Doctor Amari asks what happened to my leg. "Some bad people shot it," I answer. She assures me that the same thing will happen here if I don't watch where I'm going. _That makes me feel better_. At least I was warned about it.

"What's your name?" She asks, cleaning up her work station.

"Nora Clarke."

"Well, Nora, you're lucky. If that bullet went any lower, it could have shattered your kneecap. You could have never walked again."

The words come out before I knew it, "holy shit."

If she's bothered by swearing, she doesn't show it. "Is this your first time in Goodneighbor?"

"What gave it away?"

She nods to my vault suit, I smiled, _oh yeah_. I needed new clothes. Especially now that there was a huge rip in the middle of my suit. I wrapped my oversized long-coat tight around me. "Is there some kind of place I can stay for the night?" I ask.

"The Hotel Rexford isn't that bad a walk from here," she says, sweeping her medical supplies into a tray. Standing up, she carries it over to a corner table. "Just next to us, actually. Huge sign, can't miss it."

"Do you have a pair of crutches I could borrow?"

Amari sighs impatiently and scans the room, then, she spots something in the middle of the room. She fishes it out of a pile of what looks like old costumes and props, it's a long umbrella. If I lean down enough, it could substitute as a walking cane. Handing it to me, she says, "when you're done with that, I'd like it back."

I stuff my bear inside my sack, and grip the umbrella. "So, uh, you're a doctor..."

"Brilliant observation, scavver."

 _Nora, c'mon, you were a damn lawyer. Hold a conversation_. I cough nervously, "Right. Can you tell me how long it's gonna take until I can walk again? Properly?"

"Give it a week on the safe side," Amari says. "Three days if you're pushing it."

I felt my eyes bulge out of my skull, "Can't I just take another stimpak?"

"Stimpak's are expensive," she says.

"I've got to be somewhere soon."

Amari nods, and grabs one from her desk, "I suppose with one of these you could be able to walk again nicely by tomorrow afternoon, at the earliest."

I fish around in my bag, and pull out about twenty caps. "Does that work?"

She sighs, "yes, it will do…" she walks over and presses the needle into my leg. I sigh in relief, the mind-numbing pain was already starting to leave.

"You'll have to excuse my ineptitude in this field of medicine," she says. "I'm a neuroscientist, not a doctor for medicine."

I throw my pack around my shoulders, and shakily stand up, using my umbrella to balance me, "thank you, again." I say, I usher myself and Dogmeat out of the Memory Den's basement, with one hand glued to the wall, and the other on the cane of the umbrella to shuffle out into Goodneighbor.

The pain in my leg is horrible, I bite down on my tongue so I don't moan or scream terribly and risk drawing more attention to myself. I decided quickly that I'd need more medical supplies so I shuffle over to the shops I saw when I first walked in. I ignore the weapons shop and just go straight for the shop called _Daisy's Discounts_. I recognized the name said in the Memory Den, so I head inside. The woman inside is arranging boxes in the back. I cough slightly, "excuse me? I'm looking for Daisy."

She turns, and I had to cup a hand around my mouth from shock. Her face is completely gone, peeled away and burned, her eyes a glassy black. She walks up to the counter with a rag in her hand, "You found her. So you're the scavver who got shot in the leg, I was expecting a thank you at some point."

I shout my fear down, and gulp. _If this is the new normal, get used to it. She saved your life._

I remove my hand and smile as graciously as I can muster, " _Heh_ , yeah...thanks for that today."

She looks me up as down suspiciously. Then she slaps her wet rag on the countertop, and rubs away. "So you've never seen a ghoul before," she notices. I want to say something, but I can't. My cheeks flush red, I want to hide. Daisy leans over the counter and stares at me, black eyes shining in the oil lamps in the shop, it's a hard gaze for me to hold-there's some sort of fire in those weary eyes. But I don't look away. "See this hunch?" she asks, "I got it from sticking my neck out for people like you."

I blink, "Sorry for the inconvenience, I'll just be going." Glancing at Dogmeat, I say, "Let's get out of here."

I turn to leave, but then I feel something wet _thwap_ the back of my neck. I whip around as the wet rag falls to the floor. "Not so fast," Daisy says, the edges of her lips tug into a smile, and then she bursts into laughter. "Sorry, dear. Most newcomers haven't seen a ghoul before. I guess I should be nicer to you for not screaming yet. You needed to buy something?"

I wipe the back of my neck, I let out a frustrated breath. "You didn't have to hit me with your rag, you know."

"Ah, you're no fun."

 _I was just shot in the leg. Excuse me for not being peachy-friggin-keen_. I shake my head, subject change. "So, why'd you call me scavver? What's that mean?"

"Haw!" Daisy chortles, like I told her something hilarious, "damn, you are something else, lady. But you're a vault dweller, so I guess I'll forgive you for that one… A scavver is just someone who collect pre-war junk and sells it. I saw that teddy bear sticking out of your pack. I just assumed."

"Oh," I nod. I suppose I _was_ kind of was a scavver, I'd be picking up useless junk from abandoned buildings ever since I walked out of the Vault. I guess I just do it because it reminds me of the good ol' days. "Right, yeah, no I collect old world stuff, that's it," I say, swinging my pack out and grabbing the teddy bear.

"You know you can sell that bear to me," Daisy points out. "I'll give you…. 8 caps for it."

I hug the teddy bear across my chest, "I'm sorry, it's not for sale."

Daisy's eyes go big, like she's super weirded out. It makes me hug the teddy bear closer to my chest. _This here? It's mine._ "O-o-okay," she drags out. Then, after a beat, "well in case you _do_ need something sold, you can do it here."

I actually did need some stuff gone, and with Daisy here, I found the best opportunity to do it. Once I'm done, my pack is way lighter and I'm a couple hundred more caps richer. It's enough to make me grin from ear to ear. "You got any medical supplies?"

After a few minutes of bartering, I've got two more stimpaks and a fresh roll of gauze. And a fresh pair of clothes so I don't need to walk around in my vault suit which makes me stick out like a sore thumb here. I store my supplies safely in the bottom of my pack and I'm about to head out when Daisy catches me again. "Where you heading after all of this?"

"Park Street Station," I say Then I realize a moment too late maybe I should have told her some sort of lie. But if she wanted to hurt me, she wouldn't have helped me. So I put the idea to rest. "I've got to find this detective down there."

She nods, "How many times have you been ambushed by raiders out there like that?"

I shrug, "usually I can get away without having to shoot anything. I was just distracted when it happened."

Daisy squints her eyes at me and purses her lips, "Well, in case you get… distracted again, I'd advise it's not that smart to go alone in the Commonwealth. It's a dangerous place, I'm sure you know that." She pauses, drumming her fingers on the counter, like she's juggling her idea.

"What?"

She leans in close to me only I can hear, "There's a merc down in the Third Rail. He'll take any work he's offered, might want to go ask him to travel with you for a bit."

I shake my head, "A mercenary? Oh, I don't know if I want to travel with anyone… I can handle myself. Besides, I've got Dogmeat."

Daisy says in a matter-of-fact tone, "Honey. You got shot today. Give an old woman some peace of mind."

But I don't want to give her peace of mind, I don't even want a partner. Maybe that's why I left Piper in Diamond City, I'm afraid if someone travels with me, they'll turn their back on me or worse. But if I pay someone, that's different. That's _contract_.

"He's a nice kid," Daisy goes on. "Cheap, too."

I weigh the idea in my mind. One job, just one job to find Valentine and I'm done. Then I can find Shaun… and then… Well, whatever's next after that.

I slip my arms through my pack's straps and grab my umbrella, "Okay. I'll check it out."

Daisy smiles, "atta girl, Third Rail's just around the corner. He hangs out in the VIP section."

I limp towards the entrance of the Third Rail, and I shit you not, the building which the bar is under is the Old State House. _The Old State House._ Where the Declaration of Independence was first read to the people of Boston in 1776. I always liked history, but it was weird being so aware of what happened here without anyone else knowing. I wanted to grab a random person, shake them by the collar and scream, " _do you know what that is? It's the mother-effing Old State House! John Adams and John Hancock walked there almost five hundred years ago declaring independence and shit!"_

Not that it matters now, not that I was laughing to myself about it as I walked inside.

The Third Rail was a bar under an abandoned subway station, and I could hear the faint sounds of a saxophone playing low and slow down below. I walked down a flight of stairs into the bar; The room was large, dark, and smelled like cigarette smoke and whiskey. The lighting was all focused on a lone woman on a stage, with glossy black hair and a tight red dress, singing some old jazz song that I didn't know. I scan the room, and see a doorway into a backroom with large scratched out letters spelling out, VIP on a sign above.

I click my tongue, and led Dogmeat and myself over to the VIP section. I got weird glares from the patrons with Dogmeat by my side, but I kept my eyes down and refused to look at anyone. I peered down the doorway into the backroom, and found the merc looking a bit tied up with two other men. I wait by the doorway for them to finish, but I can't help eavesdropping.

They're both in green camouflage, which is totally useless in the cities. The guy who's speaking is hefting one of those chunky machine guns I'll never know the name to, the kind with the feeder belt of bullets. Maybe they hit an armory. "Can't say I'm surprised to find you in a dump like this, MacCready," says the first man, he's tall and looks dangerous. Type I wouldn't like back before the bombs fell. Type I don't like even more now.

"I was wondering how long it'd take your bloodhounds to track me down, Winlock," MacCready replies. He's sitting, but he looks ready to jump them on the spot. "It's been almost three months. Don't tell me you're getting rusty. Should we take this outside?"

Winlock fold his arms over my huge chest and stands his ground, "Ain't like that. Just here to deliver a message."

MacCready stands, and instinctively, I put my hand on my 10mm. If there was going to be a fight, I didn't want to be stuck in the crossfire. "In case you forgot, I left the Gunners for good."

"Yeah, I heard." He scoffs. Winlock doesn't like him, it's obvious enough, but he's there to get things done, not to make friends. "But you're still taking jobs in the Commonwealth. That isn't going to work for us."

The merc rolls his eyes, and then locks eyes with me. I take a step back from the backroom, then he looks back to Winlock, and says, "I don't take orders from you. So why don't you take your girlfriend and walk out while you still can?"

"What?" the second splutters. "Winlock, tell me we don't have to listen to this shit." Except it sounds like _sheeeeeeiittt._

"Listen up, MacCready," Winlock says, leaning in. "The only reason we haven't filled your body full of bullets is that we don't want a war with Goodneighbor. See, we respect people's boundaries. We know how to play the game. It's something you never learned."

"Glad to have disappointed you."

Winlock scoffs, "you can play the tough guy all you want. But if we hear you're still operating within Gunner territory, all bets are off. You hear that?"

"Yeah, yeah," MacCready says, rolling his eyes and sitting back down. "You finished?"

"Yeah. We're finished. Come on, Barnes."

As the exit, Barnes brushes shoulders with me hard enough to put me on notice. I shudder as I watch them go, up the stairs and away from me. I turn and the merc's already talking to me.

"Look, lady. If you're preaching about the Atom or looking for a friend, you've got the wrong guy. But," he takes a second, looking me over. "If you're looking for a hired gun, then maybe we can talk."

My mouth felt dry, I stand up straighter, trying to look like like an acceptable employer, "Daisy said you were looking for work. I need help with a job. Think you can do it?"

"I can," he says. "But what about you? How do I know I won't end up with a bullet in my back?"

I felt like laughing, that at least somebody in the world thought I could shoot something. But I don't, I just straighten my back and fold my arms. "I'm willing to pay."

"Price is two fifty up front, and there's no room for bargaining. What do you say?"

I didn't really want to lose all the caps I just got from Daisy, so I make a counter offer. "Two hundred."

We lock eyes, and I make sure my gaze doesn't waver. If he's desperate enough to take fifty caps lower than what he wanted, then I'm in luck, if he's not, it's not my fault. This was Daisy's idea, not mine.

He sighs and adjusting the hat he's wearing. "You drive a hard bargain, but you just bought yourself a hired gun."

And there it is; He is desperate enough to go lower. Good thing, too. I really wanted enough money to afford a room tonight.

I swing my pack onto a shoulder to grab the caps and toss them his way. He catches it in one hand, looking at them with a grin, and stands up and holds out a hand. "Name's MacCready, boss. It's my pleasure." Then he adds, looking down, "Nice dog."

I shake it gladly, "MacCready, we're heading out tomorrow to Park Street Station. I need your help finding an old detective. You up for it?"

"Of course," he scoffs, looking a bit offended I'd question him. "You're paying me to do it, aren't you?"

"Just want to make sure I get my money's worth," I shrug. There's a tense moment of silence between the both of us, and I regret saying that. Finally I clap my hands together and say, "we're staying in the Rexford tonight, then we're heading out at first light."

"Sounds good, boss. Lead the way."

I got a room at the Rexford easy enough, and I make MacCready sleep on the couch while I take the bed because I paid for the room. He's not complaining though, and in a few moments, he's out like a light, snoring away on the couch. I roll my eyes, knowing it'd all be over soon, and I'd find Valentine soon enough.

I change into my new clothes in the bathroom and wash my face before hopping into bed, turning my back towards MacCready so he can't see my teddy bear. I can't sleep that first night. Between the discomfort of the hotel and my distrust of MacCready, all I can do is doze off for a few moments at a time. I just tell myself to relax and that in the morning, it'd all work out.


	4. Uninvited

I'm going to kill MacCready.

The sarcastic, impulsive, self-involved, selfish bastard.

Last night I found him in a bar, which to be fair isn't a great place to meet reliable people. And of course, he just _had_ to have baggage. He was a part of a cult. Or, not a cult, but something _like_ a cult. The Gunners, who are like Raiders except organized and _like_ a cult with how MacCready describes them. Winlock and Barnes, those guys in the Third Rail last night? They want his blood. And here's me fresh out the Vault, with minimal knowledge of how to use a gun or how to defend myself and I just had to find him. _Nice kid_ , Daisy told me. Please.

Back to MacCready and the reason I'm going to kill him.

Basically, it boils down to him asking questions.

After we left Goodneighbor, he starts spitting them out like it's his calling in life. _What's your name?_ Elenora. _What's with the vault suit you were wearing last night_? I stole it. It's not mine. _Then how'd you get the Pip-boy?_ Stole that too. W _hat's up with the teddy bear, I saw you cuddling with it last night?_ Shut up.

Was it wrong to lie about my time in Vault 111? Maybe, but that's _my_ baggage. And I don't want him knowing about it.

How old is he anyway? He couldn't be older than twenty five. Young by pre-war standards, middle aged by the new ones.

Outside in Boston Commons, it's cold as hell because it's the end of October and the universe thought to itself: ' _Hey, why settle for having a doomed woman when we can have a cold, miserable doomed woman? Much more satisfying!'_ I mean, why did I have to thaw out during the winter months? Couldn't I have popped out when it was warm and sunny? For the same reason Shaun was taken from me, I guess; I pissed off someone in Heaven.

I sent Dogmeat back to Sanctuary. He'll find his way. The dog knows his way around the Commonwealth better than I do.

We're halfway to Park Street sitting behind a flipped car taking a water break when MacCready asks what we can expect inside the station. I repeat back what Ellie told me, "This guy named Skinny Malone's holding this detective hostage, but I think-"

"Hold up," MacCready interrupts. "Tell me you didn't just say Skinny Malone."

I frown, "why, what's wrong?"

MacCready grumbles something...unintelligible, and pinches his thumb and index finger in-between the bridge of his nose, sighing he says, "Okay. Let me explain this to you; Remember when I said I worked with the Gunners?" He says everything very slowly with long pauses between words, like he's talking to a toddler. He did that to me. _Me!_ I subconsciously add it to the list of why I'm going to kill him. He goes on, "Well, running with them, you tend to know the bigwigs behind the other factions, get it? And Skinny Malone is fu...fricking crazy! Why are we doing this again?"

"The detective, remember?" I say dryly.

He groans. Again. "Tell me we're getting paid for it."

I roll my eyes. Then I blink, "actually, I don't know. I walked out before we discussed payment."

MacCready's jaw drops, "So, we're not even… Okay, why are we doing this, boss?"

"I don't know," I say. Translation: _I don't want to tell you_. Then, after two breaths, "because it's the right thing to do."

MacCready's eyes narrow, "nobody does anything because it's the right thing to do."

"Fine!" I yell, calling my bluff. Then, quieter in case someone's around. "Fine, it's not that. I just need the detective, okay?"

"Okay," he says, raising his arms in defeat. "Do you know anything else about this job?"

I nod, "I think Malone's operating inside a Vault."

MacCready blinks, I can see the fire manifest itself in his eyes. "What. Else."

I throw my hands up, "That's it! I need an experienced shooter for this job, so I got you, okay? So stop asking questions and do what I paid you to do!" Then I'm so angry, at him, at my situation, at how I'm handling it, that I wanted to punch his stupid face in.

But I don't, instead I stand up, pull my sack on my shoulders, and walk on. I call out for MacCready, and in time, I hear his footsteps behind me.

We walk for a while, him trailing behind me, me leading. Then we reach the subway station, and I see a few Triggerman guarding the stairway in. I pull MacCready behind an abandoned bus and say, "When things go to shit out there, and they will, you keep yourself and me protected. That's it, that's the whole job."

"I know how to shoot, boss," he says, loading the rifle.

"Then prove it," I spit. "Stay smart and keep your gun loaded."

Where is this coming from? It's like I'm channeling all of my anxiety out into him. Maybe it's just a result of me finally having someone to talk to and releasing my tension on him. I don't know. Maybe there's some sort of symbolism in me becoming more aggressive, but it's early, I haven't showered in weeks, and I haven't slept properly in, like, three days so forget it. I'm not thinking about it.

We pop out of hiding, and the bullets fly. The Triggermen. Damn, are they good shooters. I'm glad I've got MacCready.

We're in the Subway station finally, and MacCready takes point and shoots off any Triggermen coming our way. I felt a surge of sadness cross me every time I heard the shot firing. I was commanding lives to end. I know it's for survival but- damn, I just really hated it.

We get farther into the subway, heading down an abandoned tunnel when we see the doors to the Vault. I use my Pip-boy to open the Vault. Once we're inside, I let MacCready take the lead, while I follow him, using my pistol to protect him.

We push through the Vault. No time to think it through. We were lucky coming in that I didn't die, but it's not about luck anymore. Luck's not gonna get us to Valentine. Being hardcore, being fierce, shooting at the right time- That's what works. That's how we're surviving this.

So that's what we do. Right up until we're both in the room where the Triggermen are keeping Valentine, inside the Overseer's office. I hear the faint sounds of a conversation as MacCready and I sneak up the stairs. Once we're at the top, I order MacCready to shoot the man guarding the office. As he squeezes the trigger, I remind myself:

 _It's about being hardcore, Elenora. It's about being fierce. No morals in the face of survival. Besides, survival vs. morals? I already know who wins that battle. This isn't some court-house quarrel on who's right. This is your son's life._

The man falls dead. I smile at MacCready, _thanks._

Walking up to the window inside, I knock on the glass. He notices, "Hey, you. I don't know who you are, but we've got three minutes before they realize muscle for brains isn't coming back. Get this door open!"

I can't hack terminals for shit, and something's telling me MacCready can't either. "Do you know the password?" I shout.

And Valentine, through the window, "if I knew it, do you really think we'd be having this conversation?"

Oh yeah. Geez, for a lawyer, I wasn't good on my feet.

Maybe I could shoot the lock? Nope, not gonna work, Vault-tec doesn't believe in the stability of manually locked doors, only control pads. Then, I get the bright idea to check the dead man's pockets. Ugh, dead man's pockets. That sounds like there should be a saying for that.

Bingo. I find an old holotape and plug it in the terminal. It works, I cross into the room, and find Valentine rubbing a lit cigarette out with his foot. His face is… strange, for lack of a better word. All grey and plastic looking, metal and torn. And the brightest yellow glowing eyes you'd ever seen. "Gotta love the irony of the reverse damsel-in-distress scenario," He drawls. "Question is, why did our heroine risk life and limb for an old private eye?"

I felt MacCready's eyes on me, and I really didn't want him knowing about Shaun yet. That's _my_ baggage. "It's complicated," I say. "I need someone found, but I don't know where they are or how long they've been gone."

Nick nods, "Well, I've done jobs with less. Anyways, you've got troubles and I'll help, but now ain't the time. Let's get out of this Vault, first, then we'll talk."

(-)

We had company waiting for us when Nick unlocked the door. Skinny Malone, the mob boss, his girlfriend and three other Triggermen are waiting for us on the other side. Malone steps forward, a huge gun in his hands. Skinny as a nickname was pretty ironic seeing as how I hadn't seen someone with that much meat on their bones since 2077. Ah 2077. I miss you. Miss you so bad.

I was still kind of buzzed from the heat of the battle that I wasn't paying much attention to what he said. I think he got mad at Valentine, and then he started arguing with his girlfriend. I don't know, but then I snapped back into it when Malone started yelling.

"This ain't the old neighborhood, Nicky. In this Vault, I'm king of the castle, you hear me? And I ain't letting some private dick shut us down now that I finally got a good thing going. What makes you think I'm just gonna let you walk?"

Who did this apocalyptic version of Al Capone think he was?

I know I'm terrible with weapons and fighting. But, I could fight with words, with my mind. I say, "Yeah, okay, _Bugsy_. We're gonna walk, and you aren't gonna shoot. Wanna know why? Because ammo is expensive, and nobody makes ammo anymore. Plus blood is a hard stain to get rid of, believe me, I know. And Nick Valentine is the _shit_ back in Diamond City, and unless the Triggermen want a war with Diamond City goons, you'll put your guns down." I say. Is Nick Valentine the shit back in Diamond City? Hell if I know, but I'm hoping they don't.

"You know what you are?" Malone growls, "you're a smug, over-confident ass! _Argh_! Alright, you get to the count of ten, I still see your face after that, I'm gunning both of you down!"

We didn't waste our time. And MacCready, Valentine and I are seeing daylight within ten minutes.

(-)

"Ah, look at that Commonwealth sky. Never thought something so naturally ominous could look so inviting," Valentine says as we're walking out of the subway tunnel. "Thanks for getting me out. But how'd you do it? Not many people would know where to find me."

"Ah, your secretary… The girl with the scarf and pink skirt." I forgot her name.

Nick smiles, "I need to give that girl a raise," he chuckles. "I want you to come to my office in Diamond City. Give me all the details of your case, we'll go from there."

"I'll meet you there."

"See you in Diamond City." He says. Then he's gone.

MacCready and I stand in the center of the Boston Commons. I turn towards him and smile gratefully, "You really held your own in there."

MacCready scoffs and adjusts his hat, "I told you I was good."

I smile, "Well, I'd be lying if I said you weren't," I say. After a beat, "So, I guess you'll be wanting to head back to Goodneighbor."

MacCready shrugs and rubs the back of his neck, "Well… To be honest you're the first work I've had in weeks. And Goodneighbor is starting to wear it's welcome." Then he adds dryly, "Plus, I think you'd die without me."

If it's supposed to be a joke, I don't laugh. "So you're still interested in traveling together?"

"If you want me, boss."

I smile, really smile- "Welcome to the team, MacCready. I'll make jackets."

We walk back to Diamond City together, talking about a bunch of nothing. I say, "So, this is gonna come as a shock, but I've never had a mercenary before."

He snorts, "no shit." He says, then adding quickly, "Uh, I mean… that's pretty obvious, boss."

"So what am I supposed to do?" I ask. "If you saved my life today, so shouldn't I know something about you?"

"Like what?"

"Like… what's your favorite color?"

"Green."

"Red. Favorite DCR song?"

"The Wanderer. Yours?"

"The End of the World. Great song."

"Are we interviewing each other?" He asks.

"Something like that."

"What position am I applying for?"

"More-trusted-mercenary," I sneer. Then, "Okay, _partner_."

He jabs my elbow, "Aww, but I thought I already had the job."

"Don't be so sure, you arrogant son of a bitch."

"Nice mouth," he chuckles. "Do I get to ask a question now?"

"Shoot."

"What's up with the teddy bear?" He asks.

I shrug, shoving my hands in my coat pockets. "I dunno, I just like 'em. They're cute."

MacCready narrows his eyes, "Alright, don't tell me."

Damn, this boy was astute.

We're back in Diamond City around 5. Since it's October, the sun sets more quickly now. There's more of a clump of people around the marketplace since the shops will be closed soon. I say to MacCready, "This place used to be called Fenway, and they used to play baseball here…" I trail off, not wanting to say much else on the subject.

"Didn't know you were a history buff, boss." MacCready says.

I twist my wedding band around my finger, "yeah, I read it in a book somewhere."

We pass by the Publick on our way to the Agency, I gulp and put my head down, hoping beyond hope that Piper wasn't around, or that she hadn't published my article yet. Why had I done that? Get interviewed? Make the whole world experience my tragedy? I didn't want that, I just wanted help.

I walk by quickly, passing into the backway alleys that led to Valentine's. Once we're there, I realize that I really didn't want MacCready there for him to hear all about what happened in 111. I tell him to wait outside.

"Is everything okay?" He asks.

I take a breath and reach for the door handle. "It will be," I say. More for me than him that I said that. "Just… wait over by Power Noodles. I'll be out in a few minutes."

He adjusts his hat; he's not comfortable with it, but he's not arguing either. "Alright, boss. Whatever you say," then he leaves. I turn, and enter Valentine Detective Agency.

When I'm inside, Ellie Perkins, the secretary pays me a hundred for 'saving her job'. Nick makes me sit down and has me describe who I was looking for. I don't hold anything back, I tell him all about Shaun. He asks where he was kidnapped, I waste no time describing 111. How'd it happen? It's hard, but I get through it. I describe Nate's murder, how he died protecting our son. The murderers? That might be harder. The hair on the back of my neck stands up while I describe the scarred man, the one I'll never forget. The scar catches Nick's attention, "You didn't hear the name Kellog, did you?"

"If I did, you'd know. Why, who is he?"

Ellie pulls up a file on Kellog. My description fits; Bald, scar over left eye, dangerous mercenary, but no known employer. And he's got a house in the city. I put a hand on my 10mm. "He's here in the city?" I ask, my heart dares to pump right out of my chest.

"Yes, but he left almost a month ago," Ellie says. _Almost a month ago? The same time I've been out of the Vault! I'm coming Shaun._ "But he didn't have a baby with him, just a kid. He looked to be… Maybe ten years old?"

My heart sinks, "Ten?" I say, "Maybe Kellog's stealing other kids."

"Let's not jump to any conclusions," Nick tells me. "But I bet we can snoop around his house, find out where he was going. Maybe track him down."

"Let's go now," I say, jumping out of my seat.

"Hold on," Nick says. "If it's someone like Kellog's house, chances are, he wouldn't leave it unlocked. You got any skill in lockpicking?"

I almost laughed, "that's cute."

Nick says, "Maybe you can get a spare key from the Mayor's office?"

"I'll head there now." I grab my pack and I head out before he can offer anything else. I couldn't afford to waste time; Every second I was losing was time that Shaun was with that homicidal maniac and not me.

I avoid the Noodle Stand and head up straight for the elevator. I press the button and ride the lift all the way to the top. But somebody's already occupying the office.

"Why doesn't the mayor come out of his office, huh?" Piper grills this blonde lady, pounding her fist on the table, pointing a finger at her face. "He afraid of talking to the press? I bet if I said I was with the Institute, he'd come running."

"You ever think maybe you could get a man's attention if you used softer words, honey? Maybe shout a little less?" The woman was handling her.

"Ah, that reminds me of this article I'm writing about the mayor's affair with a certain air-headed, blonde…" Piper rolls her eyes and backs off the desk. Then she locks eyes with face. I tried to keep my cool, but I think my face betrayed me. Piper folds her arms, "O-oh, look who it is, my favorite popsicle. What brings you to the mayor's office, huh?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" I say, waving my hand at the mayor's assistant.

"Trying to find out why the mayor happens to be meeting the same suspicious looking courier every other week," She practically yells it, so even the guards can hear. The assistant rolls her eyes, "are you done yet, Piper? Because if there is someone here with an actual complaint…"

Piper spins around, "You hear me, Geneva, when I get to the bottom of this, the people of Diamond City will be the first to know. And believe me, they'll start asking questions."

She adjusts her cap and faces me, then she takes me across the room and speaks to me quietly. "Blue, where'd you go? I thought we were traveling together," she looks me up and down. "Whoa, what happened to your leg?"

"Can we talk about this later?" I ask, "maybe I can come to the Publick later tonight."

Piper scrunches her nose, "not so fast. You walked out on me. What happened?"

I can see with perfect vision the man being shot by the guard. I cringe, "I'll explain. Just not now, okay?"

She rolls her eyes, and crosses her arms. She chews absently on a piece of gum, "Fine. But I want answers." Piper looks back at Geneva and says loudly enough that even the guards can hear, "Hey, Geneva? I'm leaving now, so you can drop the constipated look you've got on your face."

Geneva whips out a nail file, looking bored, "Going back to your little hovel, Piper? What's it feel like knowing you'll never be an upper stands girl?"

Piper walks over to the elevator and steps on the platform. "Oh I'm not going home, Geneva! I'm heading to go get myself a bottle of blonde hair dye from the Super Salon! Ooh, or maybe I could save on caps and _raid your house_."

"Cute, Piper. Think of that yourself?"

"Ugh, go fix your eyebrows," she sneers. Piper presses the button and she's gone.

Geneva's eyes widen, but she shakes the horror off her face eventually. "You'll have to excuse Piper," she says. "She has this terrible habit where she says everything she's thinking. Anyways, you came up here for something?"

"Yeah, this man named Kellog has a house here. I need his house key."

"Oh! Right to the point then," she smiles. "Sorry, that doesn't happen much in public works. Well, I can't help you. Kellog was a private citizen."

"Oh, I know," I lie. "I'm his wife, I need my stuff back."

Geneva makes this face, "I didn't know Kellog was married."

I show her my wedding band. The ring that belongs to the man Kellog brutally murdered. "He doesn't like to talk about his personal life much, though, does he?" That's a gamble. There's the biggest possibility that Kellog is a chatty mercenary. "Anyway, I left the rest of my clothes in our home and I really want to change, and I lost the spare getting back here. The key?"

"I suppose he doesn't," Geneva shrugs. She reaches into her desk drawer and places a small key on the table. Shit, Piper was right, this woman wasn't that bright. "Sorry for the wait."

I take the key from the table. I thank her and ride the elevator out. While riding down, I see Geneva staring at a small mirror, examining her eyebrows instensely.

I bring Kellog's house key back to the Agency. I slap it on his desk confidently. Nick looks at his thoughtfully, chewing on the end of his cigarette. "If we're heading into Kellog's house, we'll be searching pretty heavily for clues. Which means we'll need a good nose. You got a dog?"

I felt like kicking myself. I had sent Dogmeat away only hours ago. "I do. Do we really need him?"

"You wanna find Kellog?"

"If I get my dog, do you promise you'll stay in the city long enough for me to return?"

"On my honor."

 _Back to Sanctuary._

(-)

I found MacCready later that evening chowing down on a bowl of Power Noodles. I slap him on the back and take a seat next to him. "Mmpm- Boss!" His mouth full with noodles, he gulps, "where have you been?"

I take off my pack and set it by my feet. ""We got paid for rescuing Valentine."

"Haw, really?" He grins, "how much?"

"One hundred," I say. I split it up, passing him fifty. He takes it all in one swoop, staring at them in his palms. He asks in disbelief, "I get half?"

I shrug, "you did your job well. Consider it this week's payment."

He pockets it gladly, "It's starting to look like hanging with you was the right choice." He orders me a bowl of noodles, which I'm so grateful for. I've been craving for warm food for forever in this wasteland.

Since I've come out of the vault, I've had more cravings than I did pregnant, but this time, always with things I'll never taste again. Hot cheesy pizza. Warm chocolate chip cookies. Cheeseburgers. Steak and eggs. No, steak and eggs was still a possibility. I'd have to find a Brahmin, slaughter it, butcher it, cure the meat, grill it up. Find the eggs some place else. If nothing else, the possibility of steak and eggs gives me hope.

"So," MacCready says, slurping down his broth. "Is Valentine helping us?"

"It's kind of more complicated than that," I say, stirring my food around. "We need to make a trip back to this settlement out north, I need to get Dogmeat back."

"Why do you need the dog?"

"Valentine thinks it'll help with the case," I say. I got quiet all of the sudden. I didn't feel like talking anymore. "It doesn't matter, I'm willing to whatever I have to."

We sat there in silence, around the chatter and bustle of Diamond City at sunset. Then, after several minutes of talkless eating, MacCready says, "It's your husband, isn't it?" MacCready purses his lips. "He's the one who's missing."

I blush. "What are you talking about?"

"I saw your ring back in Goodneighbor, and the way you seemed so panicked to find a detective..." He flicks his eyes down to my hands, "if he's the one who's missing, I'll help you find him."

I open my mouth to say something, but I close it quickly. I twist my ring around my finger, "I'm not looking for my husband." I whisper, "He's… well, _gone_. For lack of a better term." My voice cracks on 'gone'.

"Oh, my gosh. I didn't...Hey, I'm really sorry," he winces. We sat there in utter silence. It was depressing. Then after two beats, "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I'll leave it alone."

I muster a smile, "Thanks, MacCready."

Talking about something so personal, and having it treated with respect makes me feel more comfortable around him. Once we're done with dinner, I give MacCready some caps and tell him to buy a room at the Dugout. "I gotta meet someone in town. I'll be back in ten."

I head over to the Publick, anxious to tell Piper about that synth shooting I saw yesterday. I knock on the door, and Piper takes her damn time getting to the door. When she does, she ushers me inside, "Blue! Get it, you'll never believe what I just figured out."

Apparently, Piper heard the whole story before I could tell her. She's going off about it, clicking a pen in her hands, chewing wildly on a piece of bubblegum. "And get this! The man convicted of being a synth wasn't even let free! It's been a day and he's still in jail. The guards said for 'questioning' but anyone who can read between the lines can see that's a damn lie. My question is, why? Why are the guards keeping him for so long?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," I say. "I was right about to head here when I saw that man die. I guess I got scared and ran off. Plus, I figured you needed to stay here and work on your paper. Speaking of, have you… finished my article yet?"

Piper shakes her head, "Sadly, no. I still need to edit it… Why, you want me to add something?"

"Not that," I say. "I want you to not publish it."

Piper pauses, then chuckles, "I don't think I heard you right, Blue. You want me to do what now?"

"Please Piper," I beg. "I know you've got that thing about the truth or whatever, but I want this to remain _my_ truth. I don't want it published."

"But why?" Piper asks, "Blue, you had great quotes, a good story. Why not have the people of Diamond City root for you along the way?"

I tried to offer her money but she wouldn't hear of it. She just wanted answers. I tell her the truth. I tell her I didn't want my whole life in print for someone's viewing pleasure, that I didn't want to make the whole city experience my tragedy. That I didn't want anyone else know that I didn't personally tell. And Piper, despite being Piper understands. She tells me I owe her big for wasting so much time writing the damn thing, and that she deserved lunch one day. I promise it to her and she lets me leave. I'm thankful, but honestly I think she did it because she pitied me. Whatever, as long as my sob story isn't out into the world.

Back at the Dugout, MacCready' s gotten us a room, one with two twin beds so we can both get a bed tonight. I'm glad to have my own room again. Well, not my own room. I'll never have that again.

 _Oh screw self-pity. The world doesn't revolve around you. And screw guilt. You aren't the one that shot Nate. And while you're here, screw grief. Crying over your husband won't bring him back._

I fall asleep better that night, having a dreamless night.


	5. Combat Ready

Chapter 5

We're inside what used to be an upscale boutique. Looted several times over, full of empty racks and broken hangers, creepy headless mannequins and posters of overly serious fashion models on the walls. A sign on the counter reads, going out of business sale. MacCready does a quick run through the shop, then gives me a thumbs up. Nobody here.

I walk into an old storage room in the back, and find a can of cram. Maybe somebody's lunch once, but now mine. I go back to the front of the store, and we sit behind the register counter, I divide up lunch while he's counting .308 bullets in his hands. We break open our water bottles, and start on lunch. He notices the can of Cram I've got and makes a disgusted face. "You like Cram, boss?" he says, taking the can.

I grab the can from MacCready and pull open the top. "You snooze, you lose," I say, and begin eating the Cram casually with my fingers. "Never liked Cram until recently. Now I love it," then I grin. "God help me, I'm turning into trailer trash."

I pull off a piece of Cram and offer it to him. And somehow, it clicks for him. It's not about the meat. The chunk of processed ham passes from me to him, and something between us relaxes. An understanding is reached _. I'm on your side_ , that piece of Cram says. _I've got your back._

"So what's in Sanctuary, boss?" MacCready says, licking his fingers.

"It's recently become a Minutemen settlement," I say. "Dogmeat's there, and I want to check up on it."

MacCready narrows his eyes, "you're a Minuteman?"

"Guess so." I say, "why, you don't like them?"

"Just seems like a lost cause, you know?" MacCready says, picking up another piece of Cram. "I dunno, I just think it's smarter to go alone."

"Yet here we are."

"Yeah, well, you're paying me." MacCready rolls his eyes. "How'd you get involved in that kind of thing anyways?"

I scoff, "How'd _you_ get involved with the Gunners?"

He adjusts his hat, and shifts uncomfortably. "Fine. I won't ask about it. How far?"

I click on my Pip-boy. We still had a long way to go. As soon as we got out of Lexington, we'd be fine, but until then, I was still holding my breath. "We'll be there by dark," I promise. Then it's quiet. A few minutes of silence pass by, so I ask, "how _did_ you get involved with the Gunners?"

MacCready leans his head back on the counter and sighs, "Well, I guess we had to talk about it eventually. Anyways-"

I heard a shuffle of footsteps outside the boutique and I cup my hand around MacCready's mouth, pressing a finger to my lips. The sound doesn't seem to go away, but it comes closer. "Did you hear that?" I whisper. MacCready smacks my hand away and grabs his rifle, loading the .308 ammo into it. He puts the gun on the countertop, and peers through the scope. "Crap," he whispers.

I don't want to make a sound, so I tug on his duster, he looks down and mouths, Gunners.

Immediately, I start to panic. All of the scenarios of why they are here cloud my mind. _We're in their base. They're afraid we're more dangerous so they want to get us first. It's MacCready, he's attracted them here._ I try to force it out of my mind, hoping they'll just leave us alone. I pull out my 10mm and slide my pack back onto my shoulders in case we'll have to run. My heart starts to beat faster, and it's so quiet I start thinking that MacCready could hear it.

The glint from metal from MacCready must've caught their attention, because there's no other reason they should have seen us. They scream the store name, and a molotov crashes into the store's window. The entire right side of the building catches fire, the beams supporting the second story up begin to crack. Jaw agape, I scream: "MacCready!"

"I see it!" He yells, he turns around, and in one swoop, grabs his pack and swings it on his arm. "Go, go, go!"

Gunners guard the store entrance, so we have to climb up to the second story of the boutique, clamoring over broken mannequins and clothing. MacCready first, me trailing behind. Then, in the heat of the moment, I lose my footing and trip down the flight of stairs, crashing into the mannequins below.

MacCready whips around, "boss!"

I grunt, pushing myself up, "I'm good, keep going!"

Gunners burst into the store. MacCready nods, heading upstairs. I jog back up the stairs, when they see me. "There!" One shouts, and a shower of bullets hit the stair banister as I climb up. MacCready's already upstairs, whipping his head around. I point at the window, "The fire escape!"

He nods, pushing me towards it. I go first. I'm halfway through the window when the first Gunner shows up on the second floor. By now, the smell of smoke from the fire below is suffocating. The fire below has begun climbing upstairs, the flames licking the walls.

MacCready aims to shoot one of the Gunners, taking him down. I offer him my hand, and he takes it as I hoist him up. More Gunners show up on the second floor. " _Is that MacCready_?" A voice says.

No time to figure it out. MacCready pushes my shoulders to go down, and I oblige, booking it down the stairs. I zoom downstairs, tripping on myself to make it down, when I realize I don't hear MacCready behind me. I panic, whipping around; He's right where I left him, his arms being tugged by the Gunners. They're arguing over who gets to take him back, how many caps they think he's worth. The better part of my mind, the logical part is telling me to leave him. _Let him go, more trouble than he's worth._ But it's sensitive part of me that tells me, _you don't leave him behind. You don't make that decision, if he lives or dies._ I take my gun and aim it, trying to line up the crosshairs with their heads. The Gunners are thrashing him around, so it'll be hard to get a good shot in. Plus, I can't shoot if my life depended on it.

 _His life depends on it,_ a small voice says in my ear. Maybe it's Mr. Bear.

I take a deep breath and shoot.

The bullet finds a target. It's embedded in one of the Gunner's stomach. I felt like hurling when I heard how he screamed. I force my fear down and aim for the next Gunner. I get his neck. "MacCready run!"

He doesn't wait for an invitation, and rushes down the fire escape. "He's getting away!" Another Gunner yells.

He's on the ground now. MacCready takes my arm and leads me to the side of the building, where he pulls out his sniper rifle. He doesn't stop until every single Gunner is dead. I watch him do it all. I see the fire in his eyes, the rage building up inside him.

When the last Gunner falls down, I notice MacCready's thigh.

"Holy shit!" I cry.

"Told you I was a good shot," he breaths, his voice ragged.

"Not that," I say, pointing to his thigh. "You're bleeding!"

He looks down, once the adrenaline of battle wears down and he stops moving, he'll begin to feel it. A hand flies down to his thigh, and he notices all the blood. Maybe he got shot while I wasn't paying attention. I felt like throwing up, seeing all that red. I put his arm around me, "We need to find a safe place for you to sit down. C'mon, over here!" I say, pulling him away from the burning boutique.

I get him behind an abandoned cafe, just behind the dumpster. I'd take him inside, but the door's locked. Along the brick walls of the restaurant are old advertisements for Vault-tec. "Reserve your spot TODAY!" And "Prepare for the future!"

"Don't touch it," I tell him, opening my pack.

"It's not even that bad-AAAAHHH."

"I told you not to touch it!"

"Ow, ow, ow, ow…"

I push aside all the junk in my pack, "I have to have a stimpak or something…"

MacCready gives me a helpful update: "It's bleeding a lot!"

"Will you stop squirming?!"

"I'm sorry, it must be so _inconvenient_ for you!"

"This is all my fault, I never should have stopped in that store... I'm sorry-"

"Stop babying me," MacCready says. "I've been looking out for myself for a while, I know how the game works."

"Well, it's not a game!" I yell. "Not to me! Do you know what it'd be like if you died in my company? I'd be responsible for your death, I can't have that having over my head!"

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't think about how _me_ getting shot in the leg would affect _your_ poor little feelings!"

I smack his face, hard. Then I instantly regret it, "Oh shit! Are you okay?"

"I'd be better if you stopped hitting me."

I deserved that. I open up my pack, ripping through everything I've got. Maybe I put my stimpaks at the bottom of my pack? I shift through the contents, and bingo, I find one. I grab it and plunge the needle deep into his thigh. He groans in response. "Warning next time, geez!"

I fumble with finding gauze, but when I do, I quickly wrap it around as smoothly as I can manage it. I don't want to stay here long, so I stick another stimpak in his leg and make him take some painkillers. "We can't stay in Lexington, there could be more of them. Can you walk?"

MacCready grunts and pushes himself up, "yes," he moans.

"Then walk! We need to move," I say. I lean him onto me. We're roughly the same height, so neither of us have to bend down to walk. I push us through Lexington, hoping beyond hope that no other Gunners show up. I want the stimpaks to work quickly, the same way they worked for me.

We're out of the city soon, with me leading. Once we're safe, MacCready mutters, "Thanks. For not leaving me."

I blow a loose strand of hair out of my face, "thank me when we're in Sanctuary."

The trip to Sanctuary takes us a lot longer to get to than dusk. Between having to take frequent breaks for him, and the fear of more Gunners finding us, we don't get there until around two in the morning. I was going to kill MacCready.

I cross the bridge with MacCready linked on me and find Preston sitting on a shabby little guard tower, laser musket in hand. He squints and waves at me. "Nora! Damn, I thought you were a raider."

Preston climbs down from his tower and helps me carry MacCready into the settlement. It's grown since I was here about a month ago. the Long's have a field of crops ready to go, and Sturges has repaired most of my neighbor's walls. I make Preston carry him over to the yellow house across from mine and sit him down on the couch. MacCready lays himself down and thanks me again. "Now that we're in Sanctuary," he says.

I wipe the sweat off my brow, "Do we have any more stimpaks?"

Preston runs off and comes back with one for me. Thanking him, I press the needle into MacCready's thigh. Once he's taken care of, I'm ready to talk to Preston. We go outside in the street.

"What are you still doing awake?" I ask.

"Guard duty," he says. "We've been having more Raider attacks now that this place is occupied. We've been able to take care of it so far, but we'll probably have to organize a scavenging trip soon."

I fold my arms, yawning. "You good to keep taking watch? We've been traveling all day, and I've really like to go to bed."

"Sure," he says cooly. "Breakfast is at seven though, we could use your help getting it ready."

I tell him I'll help and walk myself back to my old home. I close the door behind me, "Codsworth? You in?"

"Mum!" Codsworth zooms into the living room. He's blinking and whirring, which I suppose is his version of looking happy. "Oh, mum, you don't know how happy I am to see you again! I've dusted the crib and arranged the young Shaun's toys alphabetically… But, where is he?"

"He's not here yet," I say. "But I'm close, Codsworth. I'm real close."

"Oh, mum! I'm so proud of you!" Codsworth beams.

"Have you seen Dogmeat?"

"Why, he's found himself a home in that doghouse behind the Cofran's house. I'm sure he's there now!"

I wave my hand, "I'll see him tomorrow. I'm going to bed for the night, Codsworth. Goodnight." Then I'm out like a light, passed out on my couch.

(-)

The next morning, I meet the new settlers while I'm on kitchen duty. Preston and I make ground-up razorgrain in the garage of the yellow house. Razorgrain, when ground up, is kind of like porridge. While the settlers are cleaning bowls and glasses for the meal, I learn there's three in total. Two of them are a family, a seventeen-year-old and an eight year old. The other is an older, single woman.

I found it easier to make conversation with the seventeen-year-old. His name's Ben, and he's a bit more chatty. He's this lanky kid with orange hair that sticks straight up and a large nose. I ask him where his parents are. His story is all too common in the Wastelands, but it's enough to bring tears. A Raider attack just over a year ago, all he could do was save his sister. They've been surviving ever since. An important lesson I learned from that kid: Life will defend itself no matter how small it is.

Mary, Ben's sister isn't much for conversation. She's short, shorter than a regular eight year old should be. As a mother, it was heartbreaking to see her tiny wrists, the bony cheekbones and the hollowed out temples and the scars and sores over her small body.

Ben and Mary are extremely close. Mary only talks to him, and I notice while they're washing dishes together that they're smiling, even laughing. I had to turn away at that point, avoid looking at them. I know seeing a family be happy like this is a good thing and that crying should be the last thing I do, but it only reminds me of Shaun and how far away he is from me.

"Boss? MacCready ventures, I didn't even see him come out the the house. His hand is on the side of the garage, trying to steady himself. "What's wrong?"

He says it quietly enough, but I'm sure Preston heard. I respond immediately, "nothing, I'm fine." Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.

"Uh, you're crying, boss."

 _No shit, Sherlock._

I didn't want to be by the crowd of people over by the cooking station, "I'm just happy that Mary has Ben and that they can be safe now." I brush past him, going into the yellow house, arms wrapped around me. "I just need to take a breather."

I want Shaun back. No, I _need_ Shaun back. I can consciously feel myself slipping away over my time in the Commonwealth. I can feel myself losing who I was, who I am. I need to tell Shaun how much I love him and how sorry I am he had to grow up without a mother. I just want to hold again, and give him his damn Mr. Bear again and-

"Breakfast is ready!" Preston's voice rings out. I take a moment to compose myself, taking a deep breath, I head outside.

We arrange breakfast by taking chairs from the other houses and setting them all up in the middle of the street, a huge dining table ready for a meal. Preston gathers the other Concord survivors; Murphey, the Long's and Sturges. Once we're all seated, Preston and I serve the meal. It's nice, to be able to cook again, to be able to serve in this way. I make sure Mary's got an extra serving.

The conversation at breakfast is nice and light, we try not to talk about the Raider attacks or the lack of food. Preston tells the settlers about his plans with the Minutemen, all big picture talk. He smiles and tells Mary about the days when the Minutemen were something much bigger, and not just a small group like today. MacCready doesn't say much, his head is down as he stares at his bowl, hunched over, eating quietly.

When breakfast is over, I help Ben with the dishes and clean-up. It's nice talking to kids, it make me think of what it'll be like when I find Shaun.

I approach MacCready after breakfast that day. He's sitting by himself, etching a portrait into the pavement with a rusty nail. I wish I could say it was good, but MacCready's not much of an artist. It's kind of disappointing, because I desperately want to find something redeeming about him. If he were an artist we could relate on a creative level. I could take to him about my passion for music, and he would get it. As it is, he doesn't even know and probably wouldn't care that I could sing.

"Who are you drawing?" I ask.

"Just a girl I knew in Capital Wasteland," he mumbles.

That piques my interest, "someone you cared about?"

"Yeah," he says cooly.

I take a better look at the sketch, "her eyes are too big for her face."

"I guess that's because her eyes are what I remember most."

"And her forehead's too large," I add.

"Well, she had a great brain," he laughs. When he laughs, it's hard to imagine he's the same guy who killed all those Gunners. MacCready returns back to his drawing, "Is there something you want, or are you just an art critic today?"

"I... was wondering why you were sitting by yourself."

"Ah, so you're also my therapist."

I let out a huffy laugh, "Nope, that job wouldn't pay enough." MacCready gives me a half-hearted dirty look, then looks down at his drawing, but I can tell he's not thinking about the girl, his head is somewhere else. "I'm not like Preston or those other settlers. I don't care about saving the world or even making it better," he puts down the nail, giving up on his etching. "Way I see it, the world is a reflection of how people act and think. If the world's this messed up… It's not worth saving."

That MacCready is willing to share this with me makes me feel good. It makes me feel closer to him, because I get it. I don't have some sort of savior complex like Preston, I just want Shaun back. Maybe now that he has opened up, he'll stay open long enough to hear what I have to ask him. "There's something I want to talk about."

"Yeah?"

I sit beside him, keeping my voice low. "In Diamond City, when you thought it was my husband we were trying to find? It's not...it's my son."

MacCready's eyes go big, "Boss... holy crap, I didn't-"

I shake my head, "I don't want your sympathy or pity. I just..." I curl up, resting my chin on my knees, my arms wrapped around my legs, "I just wanted you to know."

MacCready looks down at his drawing, he opens his mouth to say something and shuts it. In our silence, I pull out my 10mm and stare at the gun, the metal glittering in the sunlight. "I need you to teach me how to shoot," I say.

MacCready looks back at me, "Really?"

My eyes plead a silent battle, "please, MacCready, I need to know how to defend myself."

He considers that, scratching the side of his face. "Well, boss. This sounds like some serious stuff. I can help you learn how to shoot, if you need it."

I grin, "Thank you," I tell him. Then I nod to the drawing on the pavement, "and if you ever need to talk…"

"Same to you," he says, although I'll never take him up on the offer, it's nice to know the option is open.

Later that evening, MacCready sets up aluminum cans up on boxes outside as my make-shift shooting range. He's given me his sniper rifle to practice with. Once it's all set up, MacCready makes me change how I'm standing about a thousand times. "Put your leg a little farther back. No - the other one. There you go, boss. You'll get there eventually."

"Can we just start?" I spit.

"Yep!" MacCready gins, cheerful despite my moodiness. "You see those cans on the boxes over there? You're gonna work on your sniping today."

I bring the scope to my eye, and can just barely make out the bottles sitting on the top of the boxes. "You sure I can hit those?"

"I have complete faith in you, boss." He says from somewhere behind me. "Pick a target, line it up in the crosshairs. When you're ready to fire, hold your breath. It steadies everything out. Then pull the trigger, but be careful. It's a helluva kick."

"Right," I mutter, picking the first can in the lineup. My finger shakes over the trigger, but I force myself to wait. I take a deep breath and when the shaking stops, I exhale and fire. The recoil punches my shoulder hard. I lower the gun. "Goddamn, it packs a punch."

MacCready shrugs, "if your stance was right, you shouldn't have felt anything."

I ignore that, choosing instead to look and see if I actually hit anything. I stand up on my toes and squint, trying to block out the sun. "Did I hit anything?"

MacCready takes the gun and checks through the scope. "Sorry, boss. Looks like you got pretty close though. It's a start."

"Damn it!" I yell in frustration, "give me the gun again."

MacCready obliges me, but as one could guess, the rage I felt didn't magically make me better at sniping. It made me worse. MacCready stops me before I waste all his ammo. "Okay, okay, let's take a breather. You're getting better, boss. Promise."

I wave him off, I know he's lying, but also I am done with sniping for today. "We'll finish up for today," I tell him. "Just go get some rest, I want to leave for Diamond City tomorrow."

"Whatever you say boss," he says, taking the gun back.

For the rest of the day, it's work. I help Preston make beds for the newer settlers, and although I'm not a carpenter, we've made something decent by the end of the day. I help the Long's with gardening, and I help Sturges fix up the walls. I'm just a beginner at everything they do, but they aren't in the position to turn away work, so they all just have to grin and bear it, teaching me how to do everything.

I even give Mary one of Shaun's toys; This red rocketship that's rusted beyond belief, but is still a pretty cool toy. Maybe I shouldn't have given her something of Shaun's, but here's how I justify it: I want to teach Shaun to be selfless when I find him. I want him to learn that giving is a good thing. Besides, there's not much for kids to do in Sanctuary and she'll need something to entertain herself.

Later that night, when I'm sure everyone's gone to bed, I go inside my home and light up a lantern and place it on my kitchen table. I open up my pack and grab the two books I scavenged today. _Just like old times_ , I think. _Studying late into the night._

Codsworth whirs into the dining area, "Mum?"

"Hi, Codsworth. Just reading, what's up?"

Codsworth's arm motors lower and his mechanic voice shudders, like he's about to cry. I rise from the table, walking towards him. "Codsworth, what's wrong?"

He exhales, (can robots do that? His voice did that.) "Mum… Sir, Sir's not coming back is he?"

 _Oh._ I felt like somebody had punched me in the stomach. I fidget awkwardly, "No, honey…. He's gone." I whisper.

"I...I… Oh, Mum!" Codsworth sighs, "Such a terrible thing has happened to us, hasn't it? All the plans you and Sir had for our little family…"

I don't want to hear it, I don't want to mourn anymore. I don't want to cry, or feel weak by showing my emotion. Heaven knows I have million other things on my mind that make me feel weak. "It's okay, Codsworth. You don't have to say it."

"Mum? Are you holding up alright?"

I open my mouth to speak, _of course I'm fine, never better._ I want to say, but the tears come as sudden as a summer downpour. I'm not sure who I'm crying for- for Nate, for Shaun, for myself - and not knowing makes the tears flow all the more. "Oh, Codsworth," I shake. "I don't know what I'm doing."

Codsworth motors away for a moment, and I think he's just left me to cry in peace, but he doesn't, he comes back with a blanket, warm and fuzzy. Slightly worn away through the years, and with some scorch marks, but still good. He goes behind me and places it on my shoulders. It's so simple, but it's such an act of kindness that I haven't seen since I walked out of the Vault, it makes me cry all the more. This time, from gratitude. The tears are silent, dripping down my chin.

"Now don't you worry about a thing, Mum." Codsworth says. "General Atomics finest will help you feel better in no time. Would you like to go to bed now?"

I turn to my books on the counter, "I'd like to stay up, actually."

Codworth whirs around and heads into the kitchen. "A pot of coffee it is, then! Your favorite, is it not?" He chirps. Heading into the kitchen. That makes me stop. Over 200 years. Over 200 years, and he remembers the trivial fact that I once mentioned in passing that coffee was my favorite drink. That makes my heart burn in admiration and love for that silly robot. It makes me wish I was more like him, always wanting to give in a Commonwealth that was hell-bent on doing nothing but taking. Maybe the greatest example of love can be found in the small determination of a Mr. Handy robot, waiting 200 years, hoping that his master will come home.

Codsworth makes me a cup of coffee and stays with me for most of the night while I go over one of the books I scavenged. It's old-school, but I needed help. I wanted to know how a merc like Kellog operated. So, being me, I found a book on it. I write notes in the margins, underline words that stand out, dog-ear sections I want to come back to.

I write down motives, thinking about the way it happened, but it's all blank.

There's no reason someone should take my son.

Around the early morning, Codsworth leaves the dining area to go dust the shelves again, and I don't hear from again that night.

I'm falling asleep in my chair when I hear a voice inside my home.

"Hi, boss."

Startled, I look up quickly and slam my book closed. Then I realize who is it and relax. "Hi, MacCready." By the time he sits down by me, I see he's got a cup of coffee in his hands. It's enough to make me smile.

"You're up early," he says.

"No, I'm up late." I say, taking the cup. I turn on my Pip-boy and read the time: 5:03. "I couldn't sleep, so I started reading and I came here." I glance out my window, "Is it morning already?" I yawn.

"Just about. What are you reading?"

I try to push it out of view, but it's too late for that. I have two books out. The bottom volume is something I scavenged from the stores we were in earlier. It's Fahrenheit 451 by Bradbury, which he ignores, because it's the book on top, the one I was reading that catches his surprise, it even makes him laugh.

" _Criminology for Morons_?"

"Everyone needs a hobby," I say flatly, taking a sip of my coffee. It's not strong at all, but I could care less.

He takes the book in his hands, flipping through the pages, examining all the notes I've written in the margins. He squints at my small, detailed handwriting. "Should I be worried?" He asks, looking at me.

I look everywhere but at his eyes, "I'm not in any trouble. Or, maybe I am. I don't know."

"Wanna talk about it?" He asks, shutting the book closed.

"That's the last thing I want to do." I take a deep breath and shift in my chair. "Don't worry, everything will be fine."

Maybe he notices how my voice breaks, or the absolute loss of hope in my words. He slides the book back to me, I pat the book affirmatively. "You don't sound too sure," he says.

I look at MacCready, then I look at my front door, making sure we're still alone. Then I lean in close to him, I say, "Remember when I told you about my son?"

MacCready looks sad, I hate the pity on his face, "yeah."

I press my palms together and try to get through explaining it without falling to pieces, "He's… He was taken. I've been trying to figure out motives for the kidnapper, but I can't wrap my head around anything. There's no reason someone should take my son… Or why someone would even want him, so I can't help but thinking that maybe he's… I-"

I stop myself. I can't talk about it anymore. MacCready takes another look at the book, trying to piece it all together. "I'm sorry," he finally says. "Thank you. For telling me." He rubs the back of his neck, "This is some serious stuff, boss. Listen, if you need my help… I can stay around longer than a few weeks, like we agreed."

I exhale, dangerously close to bursting into tears, "You don't want to head back to Goodneighbor?"

He shrugs, "Yeah, I mean… More fun traveling with you than sitting in the Third Rail."

And I'm so filled with relief that I don't have to go alone, with nothing but my dog for company, that I want to hug him. But I don't, and instead I say, "Great! I mean, that's good. I… I'm glad."

MacCready grins cheekily and throws his arm around me, "Gee, boss. Look at us! Such a rocky start and now we're practically besties!"

If there's one thing MacCready's good at, it's relieving the stress out of an awkward situation. I push him away, "Okay, too much." I say, MacCready chuckles lightly and adjusts his cap, "aww, you liked it, partner."

Partner. I like that better than boss. I roll my eyes, "we should leave for Diamond City before everyone wakes up… And um, MacCready?"

"Yes, partner?" I had a feeling he was really going to milk that word.

I take a deep breath, "I want to keep learning to how use a sniper rifle, if you'll still teach me." _For Shaun, I'm doing this for Shaun_. And for myself too. I wanna reach the age of three hundred someday. Wouldn't that be something?

"Sure thing, we can start again when you're ready."

I smile at him gratefully. I'm glad he's got my back. I hope he knows I'll have his too. From day one, the Commonwealth has made it it's mission to make my life as miserable as possible, and the Commonwealth pretty much succeeded. I've been shot at, slapped, punched and kicked. But MacCready's here now, and it's different. And with a lead on where Shaun is, I allow myself the wonderful luxury of hope.

We take Dogmeat and leave for Diamond City as the sun rises over the bridge.


	6. Predator and Prey

We arrive in Diamond City bruised, battered and for the most part - in one piece. I make MacCready wait by the noodle stand as I head into Valentine's Detective Agency. I'd take him with me, but I don't need to drag anymore people down into my business. I don't want him to know all that much about Shaun or Kellogg. I've got two shoulders, and that's enough to carry the burden.

Valentine, Dogmeat and I head into Kellogg's house. It's small, it smells like smoke, booze and urine. I felt like throwing up. Not because of the smell, although bad, but because Shaun could have been here. Because Shaun wasn't with me, but in places like this. "Check the second floor," Valentine tells me. "I'll sniff out this area with Dogmeat."

I nod and head upstairs. What I find is enough to make me scream.

It's a bed. Kellogg's bed, but it's what next to it that makes me want to pound my fists into the wall until my knuckles bleed. It's a sleeping bag. A goddamned, dirty sleeping bag that my baby had to sleep in while that monster slept on a clean bed.

Hold on. A sleeping bag? No, that makes no sense. I turn around, searching for a crib. No, no crib. Then how did Kellogg take care of an infant?

Then the answer comes as quickly as a switch flipped in the dark; It means Shaun isn't an infant.

It means Shaun was that ten-year-old Ellie saw.

 _Shaun grew up without me. Without his…_

I cup a hand around my mouth, shuddering terribly. So much time stolen, so many memories taken from me. First words, first steps, first everything… First time as a mother, as a parent. And it's all gone.

 _No._ Not all gone. I'm still here, and as long as I've got air in my lungs and heartbeat in my chest, I'll fight. Tooth and nail, I'll fight.

I walk downstairs, and Nick's eyes widen. "You okay, kid? You look like you've been through Hell and back in a matter of minutes."

I shake my head, my voice is low and doesn't sound like me at all. "I'm going to _kill_ that fucker. I swear by my life and my love of it, he'll die."

"Now hold on a minute," Nick tells me. "We still need to find Kellogg. And I'm not sure that cold-blooded murder is the best way to go around this."

 _But it is._ It's the only way to go around this. "He killed my husband," I practically shout. "In criminal law, that's capital offense, he doesn't get to live." And I should know, more than anyone, I know that better. "Now what are we standing around for? Are we finding this son of a bitch or not?"

"We will," Nick assures me. "I understand this kind of bloodlust, believe me. But I think you should know," he walks up to me and puts his hands on my shoulders so I have to look at him. "Being angry doesn't change what happened. And neither will killing a man."

I smack his hands away, I wasn't listening to his petty pacifist bullshit. "What if I want to be angry?" I snap, "don't I have the right to be angry?"

Nick sighs, and shakes his head. "Okay. A mercenary like Kellogg would have had some secret room, something to operate in. Maybe there's a switch or something that will tell us something to where he's gone."

Turns out, there is a switch, right behind his desk. And there's a clue to where he's gone because he's sloppy. Because he didn't think that a soft pre-war mother would ever thaw out and find him. Dogmeat sniffs the end of one of his cigars, and he's ready to go. We burst out of the house, running after him. Until we run past Power Noodles, and a very confused MacCready. I stop Dogmeat and Nick and tell them to wait at the city gates. Then, it's time to deal with MacCready.

"We doing this?"

I shake my head, "I'm just taking Valentine with me. I want you to stay in Dugout Inn until I come back."

MacCready blinks, "Okay. You're taking the synth that you barely know, but not me? Is this your way of saying your getting sick of me?"

I ignore the jab, "I need to deal with this myself. I don't want anyone else going if it's not completely necessary."

"Look, Nora. I'm not your boss and I'm not your father, but going in without backup? _My_ backup? C'mon, is that really smart?"

"I'll have Nick with me. And this is my business. I don't want anyone being there if it's not necessary." My palms sweat and my hands fidget as I wait for his response. Finally, he says, "I don't like it, but fine," he sighs and reaches behind his back. He pulls out a small revolver, "just in case you're in a pinch. Give 'em hell, boss."

Taking it, I nod, but I don't say goodbye. I just leave him standing in the middle of the marketplace, following Nick and Dogmeat out of the city. My heart's racing a mile a minute and I feel guilty and I can't explain why. Everything now is moving way too fast and I just need time to slow down and take it a day at a time. Because _goddamnit_ , I'm getting attached to some stupid mercenary who was supposed to leave me after Park Street, after _one_ job. I'm only prolonging this because MacCready's about the closest thing I've got to an actual friend out here; He doesn't know me from Adam yet he still wants to travel with me.

I do my best to push it out of my mind. Because now I've got bigger problems to deal with than somebody's feelings. I need to plan a murder.

 _His_ murder, because that's the cost. That's the price. Get ready Kellogg, because when you take a child from it's mother, there's hell to pay. And sooner or later, you have to pay up, with interest.

We reach Fort Hagen just around noon, and I send Dogmeat back to Sanctuary again.

(-)

"And there is she. The most resilient woman in the Commonwealth. Funny, I thought I had that honor."

No time for games, no time for small talk. The last time I saw him was through the glass of a cryo pod, and the last time I _will_ see him will be today when I'm looking at his corpse. I stomp through the room, ignoring the synths, the mess around us. I get up real close and push my gun in his face. "Where. Is. My baby, you crazy-ass-mother _fucker_?! Give him to me NOW! Or so help me, God- " If there's one lesson I've learned as a mother, it's that few things in this world are scarier than an angered one.

"Right to it then, huh?" Kellogg is surprisingly calm, despite my rage. Perhaps he's made his peace, or perhaps he's got it in his mind that this is just one more fight, one more person he has to kill.

He's made a mistake, you see. He has thought of me to be just what I _appear_ to be; a soft pre-war vault dweller. _Yes_ he is stronger, _yes_ he is armed, and _yes_ , he seems to be in control. But I'm not just a vault dweller. No - I am a _survivor_. I am a human being fighting for my child and safety and dignity, and I _am_ powerful in my own way.

Kellogg pauses, and a smile creeps over his face. "Okay. Fine. Your son, Shaun? Great kid. A little older than you may have expected, but I'm guessing you figured that out by now...But if you're hoping for a happy reunion, it ain't gonna happen. Your boy's not here."

 _No!_ A voice screams in my head. I launch myself at him. Nick has to physically restrain me from ripping his face off as I scream, "Damn you, you motherfucker! Where is he?! Tell me right now!"

And Kellog, not even fazed, "What's the cliche? 'So close yet so far away?' That's Shaun. But don't worry, you'll die knowing he's safe and happy. A bit older than you expected, but ah well. At least he's in a loving home. The Institute."

My blood runs ice cold and every part of my being threatens to shut down on me. Nick doesn't have to restrain me anymore, my limbs felt numb. My entire _being_ felt numb. I felt like running away. I felt the tears sting my eyes, but I'll be damned if they go further. I don't run. My face, determined and set, speckled with dirt and grease and blood. I can feel the fear battle itself in my heart, but there's something else too. Something that warred with my fear strove against it, shouting it down, kept me still and the gun in my hands. I open my mouth, and the words just fall out: "Fuck you and the synths in this room you fucking mercenary motherfucker!"

Kellogg laughs. "You know, you surprise me, I have to admit. I find myself actually kind of...liking you. I admire your dedication to motherhood. Even if it is ultimately useless. But I think we've been talking long enough. We both know how this has to end. So...you ready?

 _Hell no. But I'm here anyway._

The guns began firing, and all hell breaks loose. I throw myself behind one of the consoles, narrowly dodging Kellog's shots, hollering over the chaos, "Nick! Take the synths! Kellogg's mine!"

Kelloggs's disappeared and materializes a few feet away, shooting behind a console. He's playing dirty.

I fetch my pack and pull out my gun. Gun, knife, a couple of frag grenades. And one more thing, the most essential weapon in my arsenal: A heart full of rage; I'm blowing the bastard who killed my husband back to hell.

I look over the console and raise my gun, shaking my in hands. _Just for today,_ I think. _Just for this moment, let me be good at shooting._ Quickly, I line up the crosshairs with Kellogg's head. But he's not some unmovable tin can, no right before I can get a shot in he ducks and disappears.

I sneak over to the side of the room I last saw him on, searching for him. Then he reappears, right in front me. _Going to die, going to die, going to die,_ my brain goes off like a broken record.

But salvation appears in the form of a bullet jamming into Kellog's shoulder. He turns around, and Nick is behind the smoking barrel. While he's distracted, I jump onto his back, wrestling my arms around his neck. I try to reach for me gun but I dropped it on the floor, I look down, trying to get a hold on it. While I'm distracted, Kellogg elbows me in the stomach, hard. I fall onto the floor, the wind knocked right out of me. My 10mm lies a couple feet away. Very close. Too far.

I look up, Nick's fighting back the synth's Kellogg has, and Kellog is right above me. He's got a hand pressed against his bloody shoulder. I look at his hands, _Nick shot his shooting arm. The gun that used to be in his hands, it's across the floor now._ "You little bitch," he grunts.

I'm not waiting a second longer, I can't stand, so I crawl, crawl, _crawl_ towards the 10mm. Kellogg is laughing above me, "you don't know when to quit, do you?"

Kellogg kicks me in the stomach hard, I fall onto the floor, grunting in pain. _Get up. Get up, get up, getupgetupgetup…_ I obey and begin crawling again. Kellogg kicks my stomach again, and this time, I can't stand. Kellogg flips me over and pins me onto the ground. His legs wrapped around mine so I can't move. Both arms holding me down, I thrash against his weight, screaming profanities at him. He moves to pull out his gun, one hand is now pushing down both of mine.

I'm yelling, I'm screaming at Nick to _get over here._

I knew this was it, I knew I was going to die. I can hear Nate far, far off, but now I see MacCready alone where I left him at Power Noodles. I left him too, left him like I left Nate alone in the Vault. I even took his gun.

Holy shit. The gun.

His one hand holding back my two is just weak enough for me to break free. I go for the gun behind my back. First shot is at point blank range, right into his gut.

The bullet doesn't break his hold. Unbelievably, he's still reaching for his gun to the side of us. I squeeze the trigger again, a second shot that lands in his chest. His eyes widen slightly, and I'm able to worm my arm between our bodies and push him away. Kellogg isn't down though, he's just catching his second wind.

He lunges at me, I roll hard to my right. His head smacks against the pavement. I get up. I fire again. The round smashes through his rib cage. That's when Kellogg finally gets his gun back, he doesn't hide, but aims for me. An explosion hits my shoulder, blood rushes out all at once, I felt sick. I keep going.

I rush behind one of the consoles where I left my bag. My fingers fumble around a frag grenade.

 _Fight back, Nora._ For Nate. For Shaun. For every person this beast has killed. _Fight._

Then I hear him laughing, a sadistic chuckle that stokes my defiance.

Sluggishly, I pull the pin from the grenade. It won't be like before, in Vault 111 when I was helpless to stop Nate from dying.

This time, I'll fight. Tooth and nail, I'll fight.

I chuck the grenade, it flies in the air momentarily before I hear the _clink_ of it hitting the ground. I take a breath, counting backwards: _Onetwothree._

The explosion sends parts of debris, shattered computer and Kellogg everywhere.

When the flames die down, the smoke clears and the synths are all destroyed, I find Kellogg. Or, what used to be Kellogg. His body is a bloody pulp of what used to be. I felt like throwing up.

 _So much blood…_

That's when I passed out.

Someone's shaking my shoulder, calling my name. When I come to, I find Nick shoving a stimpak into my arm. "Nora… Nora… Wake up!"

I try to sit up, but there's a massive headache that forces me down and the most unbearable pain in my shoulder. _Oh yeah,_ I think. _I got shot._

"You passed out," Nick tells me. "Probably from all the darn blood you were losing. Didn't have much in the way of stimpaks in that bag of yours, but there was just enough to keep you together," he comments as he helps me up. "Took a couple of bad hits there at the end."

"I'll be fine," I grunt, rubbing my shoulder gently.

Will I though? Aside from killing Kellogg, and the physical pain I'll have to endure, what's this going to do to me mentally? I found Kellogg, but in finding him, I lost myself.

I was different now. No doubt about it, Past Nora could have never done something like this.

The world used to contain one Nora; singular and possessive. Now, it's different. Now there's two: The Nora that was, and the Nora that is. The Nora who fed buttery popcorn to a once steady boyfriend, married him in a white dress, and birthed a beautiful baby boy. Past Nora.

Present Nora is different. Present Nora starves, and yells, and curses like a sailor. Present Nora _kills._

I miss her. That sweet suburban mom who not even in her wildest dreams could have imagined what horrors she'd have to face today. That kind, doting wife who never could have seen herself killing people.

I had become the type of person I used to bust in defense cases.

The road to Diamond City is slower than I would have liked, as Nick makes us take frequent breaks to check on my shoulder. I could care less about it right now. In fact, my whole arm could be gone and I'd still be thinking about what just happened in Fort Hagen.

I can testify that some people truly are monsters deep in their core. Kellogg certainly was one of them. In the end, killing him became a risky balance of maintaining past me and becoming present me; A wagering of my soul in the pursuit of justice. Because sometimes, if only in the rarest of rare circumstances, we have to become the monster in order to defeat it.

And then hope that we can change back.

When we arrive back in Diamond City, I drop Nick off at the agency. He makes me promise I'll head to Doc Sun immediately. I promise.

But I don't.

Instead, I search the crowd in the marketplace, limping through unfamiliar faces in search of the one person I'd really like to see right now. Every face is new now, every face is a stranger's face. Except one.

There, sitting at that fucking noodle stand, is MacCready. Right where I left him.

I chuckle, "Glad to see you didn't desert me."

MacCready chokes on the noodles he's eating and spins around in his stool to face me. His cheeks are filled and his chin is dripping with broth. He grins from ear to ear, "Mmpff- Boss!" He gulps down his food and stand up, "I thought you died or something," walking towards me, he looks at me harder. "Or maybe I spoke too soon. You look like crap."

I slump into his arms, "Didn't have many stimpaks."

He laughs, leading me away from the busy marketplace. He's holding up most of my weight; I can barely move without his help. "You know, if I had been there, you'd actually be in one piece."

"If you had been there, you'd be dead," I say matter-of-factly. MacCready isn't laughing anymore. He shakes his head, "Nora, I thought we were partners."

It's weird hearing my name from his mouth. I open my mouth to speak, but I have nothing to say, so I say nothing at all. Too often, I think, do people say things when really they have nothing to say.

"This had something to do with your son, didn't it?" He asks. "Is everything okay?"

I rubbed my eyes and almost laughed. _Sure, MacCready, aside this whole annoying nuclear apocalypse thing, everything's great._ "Can you just take me to Doctor Sun?"

"Alright, alright," he says. "Just don't die or anything."

"I won't," I promise. Why do I keep making promises I don't know if I can keep? "I won't die." This promise to MacCready and the promise that I'd find Shaun. Now, the promise to find him is a death sentence, a cell door slamming shut, a stone around my neck that's destined to carry me down.

We head for the Doc Sun.

(-)

It's been three weeks since Fort Hagen, since Kellogg, and no new leads. It's frustrating as hell, and I feel like I'm failing at this whole motherhood thing, but Nick tells me he'll send out a radio signal on my Pip-boy when he finds something, so I'm stuck waiting. To distract myself, MacCready and I have been on the road, trying to find more ways to make caps. He's been giving me more shooting lessons, though it's hardly helping; I'm just as bad as the day we started.

We're halfway to Goodneighbor one night, running a job for White-Chapel Charlie when we make camp for the night. We roll out our sleeping bags, MacCready makes a fire, and we eat the two cans of Cram we scavenged today for food. Dinner goes by uneventfully, and we both climb into our sleeping bags. I've only been in my sleeping bag for all ten minutes when I go, "Mac? You awake?"

He grumbles something incoherent and I hear him shift over, "what?" he grumbles.

I bite my lip, "I've been thinking about the people who get sent to the Institute," I say.

I hear his bag rustling, I look over and he's sitting up in his sleeping bag, propped up on his elbows. "Why would you want to do that?" asks MacCready.

I lean on my elbows too, I say, "I've been thinking about how the Institute is like a black hole. Nobody knows what goes on inside."

I see MacCready juggling with the idea for a minute, or maybe he's thinking to ask me what a black hole is. After a moment, he says, "everyone knows what goes on," he mutters.

"No," I say. "Everybody knows the result, but nobody knows how synths are made. I want to know how it happens. Does it happen right when you get there, or do they keep you waiting? Do they treat you kindly, or coldly?" _At least he's in a loving home. The Institute._

"Well," MacCready says, shifting back on his stomach, "maybe if you're lucky, you'll find out firsthand."

I frown and roll over on my side, then after a few minutes MacCready says, "you know what? You think too much."

"Well, _somebody_ has to make up for the collective lack of brainpower up here."

"Fine," MacCready says, sitting up again. "Think about stuff until your head explodes. But the only thing I'm thinking about is how to make more and more caps." He falls onto his bed-roll again.

"I find your shallowness both refreshing and disappointing at the same time," I say. " _Huh_. Do you think that means I need therapy?"

"I think you need therapy for a number of reasons."

I roll over on my side to look at him, "what's up with your love for caps anyway? In times like these, caps make little sense."

"They might make little sense to you," he says, "but right now, I need every cap I can get."

" _C'mon_ ," I prod. "Caps can't really be that important to you."

"I don't really have much of a choice," his voice gets real quiet.

"Why not?"

He pauses, "do you honestly care?" His tone is all business.

"Yeah. I do."

He rolls his eyes, and sits up from his bedroll. I do too. "It's those two assh...those two idiots you saw me talking to at the Third Rail. Winlock and Barnes."

"What about them?"

He hunches over and turns his head, "they've been hounding me for months and it's been driving off clients. No one wants to touch me once they've learned I've rolled with the Gunners. And I've figured maybe if I got enough caps together, maybe I could buy them out."

I rub my neck, "how many caps do you need?"

"I'm not sure. Honestly, that's not even what concerns me the most. I'm wondering how I'm going to pull it off. See, they've got a small army with them at all times. They might just decide to keep the caps and put a bullet in my head for good measure." He then stops, "Unless…"

I felt my stomach tighten, I didn't want to hear unless. "Unless?"

"Unless you and I pay them a little visit and put an end to them before they even realize what's going on."

"Oh," I say.

"Yeah. _Oh_ ," he says. "Listen, I wouldn't even be asking if I didn't trust you."

I bite the inside of my cheek, chewing on it. "Isn't there any other way?"

"If there was, I would have done it already. To be honest, even if they do take the money, there's no guarantee they won't change their minds later. Then I'd be completely broke and on the run."

"I…" I wanted to help, but I felt extremely adept. "If you need my help, I'm there."

MacCready's eyes widen, "wow," he says, letting out a relieved sigh. "Thanks. See this is why I came to you, I've got this feeling you actually care about what happens to me."

"Uh, I just don't want the Gunners coming after us."

MacCready laughs, "Ah, come on, boss. You'd miss me if I was gone, right?"

I don't answer, I just flip over on my bed-roll and curl up, "goodnight, MacCready."

A few moments pass by in silence, "but- I mean, you _would_ miss me, right?"


	7. In This Together

We're staying in an abandoned apartment complex one night. Sun's already set, and MacCready hands me a can of Cram we scavenged today, "your favorite. Right, partner?"

I scoff, taking the can. He sits next to me and peels open his own can. "You're getting better at shooting, you know?" He comments. "Good thing too, by what your Pip-boy's telling us, we'll be at Mass Pike Interchange tomorrow."

"Hopefully won't die," I comment lazily, my heart not really into the severity of what I'm saying. I peel open the can of Cram.

MacCready chortles, "Can't believe you didn't die today."

"At least dying's better than being taken by the Institute," I say, chewing on the meat. "Or is it? What do you think, MacCready? Would you rather die or be taken by the Institute?" I've been thinking about the Institute ever since Kellogg. I can't get it out of my mind.

He blinks, I clearly caught him off-guard with that. "Don't ask things like that," he scowls.

"C'mon it's not like you haven't thought about it-"

Suddenly, we hear shots ring out outside. We're on the sixth floor of the apartment, so whoever's outside won't hurt us, but it's very disarming to hear it. MacCready steps over to the small window, and peering through the ratty drapes. My eyes widen, "who is it?"

"Raiders," MacCready says. "Or, looks like it. Better stay quiet."

So we do. We lean against the wall, helplessly listening to the screams and gunshots from outside. We wait for what feels like hours, until the last gunshot fires and the Raiders are gone. We sit in silence for a long time after that, eating our Cram, pretending we didn't hear the screams. Then:

"Institute," MacCready whispers. "I'd rather be sent to the Institute."

Even though it's been a long time since I posed the question, I know exactly what he's talking about. It's like the questions has hung in the silence all this time, waiting to be answered.

"Really? Why?"

"Believe it or not, I've actually got things worth living for." He scratches the side of his face, pausing in thought. "People sent to the Institute don't die right away, they're made into synths. And the synths keep their memories. I guess it's just living in another body. Right?"

And then I ask the question. Not _a_ question, _the_ question. Asking it is the great taboo among the Commonwealth. It's what everyone's thinking, but no one dares to ask out loud. "So," I begin. "If they take your memories, but it's inside someone else, are you alive or are you dead?"

MacCready looks ticked off, "you know what? How about we just agree that the Institute sucks and leave it at that?"

It shuts up the conversation for a while, but not long. MacCready speaks again. "What about you?"

"It depends," I shrug. "Depends on where your soul is once you're made into a synth."

"Don't tell me you believe in that sh...stuff," MacCready say.

Maybe MacCready's not used to talking about religion, but I want him to. "Let's say it happens to you. What _do_ you think happens to your soul when you're made into a synth?"

"Who says I've even got one?"

I roll my eyes, "let's say for the sake of the argument, you do."

"Who says I want an argument?"

I kick his leg, "just give me an answer."

He squirms, "How should I know? Maybe synths don't even have souls, maybe they're just consciousness." He pauses, folding his arms together, and tilting his head down. We sit in silence for longer than a few minutes. Then MacCready says, "I had this employer once. Liked talking about these things, like you do. He had this weird thought about people taken to the Institute."

I raise an eyebrow, "What was it?"

"He had this weird theory that if someone actually was made into a synth, that they never had a soul to begin with," MacCready says. "He said God must know who gives taken and doesn't give them souls to begin with."

 _At least he's in a loving home. The Institute._ I shiver. "That's fucking weird."

"He had it all worked out in his head," he continues. "A whole science to it."

I rub my shoulders, feeling very cold. I didn't like where the conversation was heading, I wanted to put it to rest now. Then MacCready says, "well what's your opinion? You're just dishing out questions, I want an answer: Institute or death?"

A long silence goes between us. Then, I say quietly, uneasily, "I don't know."

"That's _not_ an answer."

Reaching across, I grab his hand and force him to look into my eyes. "Yes, it is an answer." I say, fire in my eyes, "Maybe it's the best answer of all. If more people could admit they really don't know, maybe there would have never been a Great War."

MacCready shakes my hand off of his, his pupils shrink. "I think we should go to bed now, partner."

I nod, breaking my stare. I felt like apologizing for such a strange comment, but I said my piece: I really don't know if I'd prefer Institute or death. Both of them scare me beyond comprehension. Maybe in the end they both equal the same thing though. Institute = death. Death = death. Not a lot of fun either way. And definitely not the type of question to ask after the day we had. Between raiders, and that gen. 1 synth attack this afternoon, we're both much too tired to comprehend the possibility of either. "Sorry, MacCready," I say eventually. "Weird topic."

"No sh- kidding. Let's just get some rest," he says, standing up. "I want to be ready when we take out Winlock and Barnes tomorrow."

There's not much space in the apartment for us to be alone. There's the kitchen, there's a couch, a bed, and all inside the same room. Well, except for the bathroom. That's special. That's got a door.

"Who's taking the bed tonight?" MacCready asks, shaking off his duster.

"I got it last time we had one," I yawn, rising to my feet. "I'll take couch."

MacCready doesn't complain, in fact, he basically jumps into the bed, curling up. I wait for him to fall asleep waiting on the couch. When I hear his snoring, I wait a few more minutes just to be sure. Then, when I'm sure he won't see, I take a deep breath and rise from the couch, heading to the bathroom.

It takes me a while to work up the courage to look in the mirror, and when I finally do, I gasp. The experience is like running into someone you hadn't seen since high school-you recognize them, but what you really notice is the ways they've changed. They don't match your memory of how they should look and for a second you're thrown off, because your memory of them is them. So when I look in the mirror, I saw a self that didn't match the memory of myself; dark circles encircling feral, wild eyes. Fresh wounds already beginning to scab over and scar. Bruises over my left eye, my jaw, my nose. Stringy hair falling out of a messy bun. I run a hand over my jaw, down to my chin. It's a very odd sensation to recognize myself _somewhere_ within the damage. I don't want to recognize myself in it; The face is front of me is a complete stranger.

No more Nora Clarke. No more curled hair, red lips, soft skin. This person in front of me is a different beast. This person isn't a person; She's a monster.

I sigh, and head back to the couch. Hating myself for looking the way I did, hating myself for asking the questions I do. But before I lay down, I get on my knees and pray. I haven't prayed since I left the Vault. It's regiment from pre-war days, but it makes me feel like me, and that's what I need right now; To feel familiar and feel comfort. So I'll keep praying.

 _Now I lay me down to sleep,_

 _I pray the Lord my soul to keep._

 _If I should die before I wake,_

 _I pray the Lord my soul to take._

A child's prayer, a mother's prayer. A woman who just really wanted to feel the words form in her mouth and find peace from it. Do I still believe in a God after the things I've seen in the wasteland? I think of the same answer I gave MacCready when he asked me a hard question: I don't know.

 _If I should live another day_

 _I pray the Lord to guide my way._

Pulling out Mr. Bear, hugging him tight.

(-)

Next morning. We're up, we eat a solid breakfast of scavenged sugar bombs, we're out within thirty minutes. Then it's the Gunners that's our biggest priority.

We're staring at the Mass Pike Interchange highway soon enough, my hands are shaking, but MacCready doesn't seem to notice. He helps me climb up the fallen highway road, and we trek upwards, using the railing to steady ourselves. "Winlock and Barnes operate up here. Most Gunners use highways for bases…" MacCready trails off.

"Did you ever use these to… You know."

MacCready is silent for a moment, then after a pause, "Yeah, I did."

Soft subject. "Maybe we don't talk the Gunners after this."

"Good plan," he says.

"Speaking of plans," I say. "You ready for ours?"

"Uh, no." MacCready says flatly. That's when I notice the fear in his voice that he tried so desperately to hide. "This is a bad idea."

"Just trust me."

"Look, I would, but these are the Gunners. And they don't take prisoners. Negotiating is not what these people are famous for."

I roll my eyes, and take out my 10mm. "Well, your plan wasn't any better."

He turns around to face me, "My plan was way better!" He splutters. "We'd have a chance with my plan!"

"Oh, nuking them to hell with a million frag grenades?" I reply evenly. "Yeah, that's a great idea. Can't see where it'd go wrong."

"That's not what it was-"

"Listen, if this partnership is going to work, you need to trust me." I say, "I'll get us through this, promise."

He snorts, I shoot him a dirty look. He goes quiet. "Right. Okay," he rolls his eyes, and holds his hands up. "Let's just get this over with."

I poke the nose of the 10mm hard into his back. "Move," I say. We're reaching their base, and I need this to look real. I can do this. I used to be a lawyer, and half of that job was relying on words and thinking fast. All I've got to do is sweet talk Winlock and Barnes until they've let their guard down long enough for MacCready to shoot them. Then the real work begins. And if I'm right about the Gunners, then they'll take MacCready just as soon as they see him. If leaving the Gunners is as big as a deal as he's telling me, then this plan will work.

I place a hand on his shoulder and dig my pistol into the small of his back, pushing him forward. This needs to look convincing.

Two sentries guard the gates into the highway entrance, and I push him forward towards them and he stumbles forward. "Move it," I growl when I'm sure they can hear me. "I don't have all day."

The Gunner looks up curiously, but raises his gun. "What do you want, scavver?"

I push MacCready onto his knees and he raises his hands his hands in defeat. My nails dig into his shoulder, hard. It's harder than what's needed, but I need something to hide my shaky hands. _Sorry, partner_. "Recognize this bag of regurgitated puke?"

 _Gross, Nora._

He stands up from his patio chair, peering forward, "that MacCready with you?"

"Did you miss me?" MacCready replies, struggling to get on his feet. I push him down harshly, and he flinches as his knees hit the broken pavement. I aim the pistol at his head. "Shut. up." Really, I'm not kidding. I can handle this without him being a smart-ass.

I turn back to the Gunner, "Hired him as a merc a while back, 'til I learned he ran with the Gunners. Didn't want to take my chances. So I thought I'd offer him up. Don't want the Gunners on my back too."

The Gunner chortles, "We don't take charity from trash like you."

"Then pay me," I shoot back. "I'll take caps."

"Don't think so, scavver."

I frown, "Who are you to make decisions here? Let me speak to your bosses," I say, my grip on MacCready beginning to loosen. I'm getting nervous. The Gunner shares a look with the girl next to him, and raises the scope of his gun to his eyes. _Shit_. "It'd be a lot easier to kill the both of you, don't you think?"

Thinking fast, I pull MacCready by the collar and we dive in front of the roadblock in front of us. The Gunner fires a barrage of ammo over us. My hands are shaking like mad, I try to steady them, taking out the 10mm, putting ammo into it. I was too afraid I'd accidentally shoot him.

"Told you they don't negotiate," MacCready says, taking his sniper rifle back, adjusting how he's sitting. "You scraped my knees."

I can't make smart-ass comeback under the line of fire, my senses are all turned around. So I say, "Just shoot them!"

"Aye, aye, partner." He says. And under a timed 60 seconds, both sentries are dead. I take a deep breath, shuddering against the road block, "Are we good? It is clear?"

He looks over the block and his eyes bug out. MacCready grabs my arm and hauls me up saying, "We need to move, now!"

At first I'm confused because the sentries are dead and the problem is taken care of, but then I see the Assaultron racing towards us.

He pulls me behind him until I'm sprinting next to him, running from the Assaultron shooting rounds into pavement. Vaulting over a crate, I huddle behind him, taking in gulps of much needed air. This was a very, very bad idea.

MacCready is completely unfazed next to me, laughing whenever he manages to get a shot in. I stare at him incredulously; MacCready is crazy all the way down to his bones.

When the Assaultron notices where we are, behind the crate, it comes rushing towards us. I stand up and run for another spot of cover, to one of the abandoned cars. I shot it clip after clip as it follows behind but it doesn't seem to slow down. If anything it's coming closer and closer. My feet pound against the concrete as I go farther and farther away from the Gunner camp.

My heart is nearly in my throat, I need to hide. I hear MacCready from a couple yards away, " _Boss, hide_!"

Obeying, I jump behind a car and cover my head with my hands. It's only a few moments later, I understand why he told me to do that as an explode of red and orange flames burst onto the highway, erupting into a shower of metal, sparks and lights obliterating the highway. I peek up from my hiding spot once I'm sure that the debris has stopped falling. MacCready is holding the grenade pin triumphantly in his hand. I couldn't help it, I start laughing from relief. "Nice one, MacCready!"

MacCready laughs too, but quickly, we pick back where we left off and continue into the Gunner's camp. We move quickly, MacCready is front, me behind, picking off Gunners that make their way to us. We hide behind abandoned cars, road dividers, crates and whatever we can find.

It's not until I see one of the guys from the Third Rail, either Winlock or Barnes, that I realize that the Assaultron was just a preview, a sneak peak for the real dangers that the Gunners were hiding. One of them is in power armor, like the kind they used pre-war to fight wars.

We're reloading ammo back into our guns when MacCready tells me that because my plan didn't work, we're going with his. _What, nuking them to hell?_ Yep.

He takes out the grenades he's been saving for this moment, gives me two, and takes two for himself. On three, we're supposed to throw all four of them, and theoretically, that's going to work.

One, two, three and the grenades _explode_. And after Winlock's gone, it's way easier taking out the rest of them, they go down pretty easily once their leader is gone.

We find a lift to take us down, and it's there when we're not under fire and its relatively peaceful, I notice MacCready's got a gash on his left temple, and he's nursing his side tenderly. "Shit, you got hurt." I say, "we need to put pressure on that."

He waves me off, "doesn't matter," he says. "That fight is gonna send a message to the Gunners to stay off my back. And neither of us died, so I'd call that a success."

"Right," I scoff, sliding my backpack off my shoulders searching for some stimpaks, "I'm sure they heard you loud and clear."

"Well, for the Gunners, it's always about the bottom line. They just lost this entire way station and that cost them big."

"Whatever the case," I say closing my pack-no stimpaks left-and throwing it around my shoulders. "We don't have to deal with them anymore, so let's just get you to Diamond City to get patched up. It's not far."

The lift is on the ground, we step off. MacCready says, "thanks for helping me out with this. Most people I know wouldn't do the same… I guess I owe you now."

"Consider it payment for all the sames you've saved my live, then." I say. _And for putting up with my weird late-night conversations…_

"Yeah, I just think that's called doing my job. And I like everything to remain nice and even," he says cooly. "And you're one up on me."

"Well, we're partners," I remind him. "Partners do this kind of thing for eachother. You don't owe me anything-"

Before I can go on, he reaches into his duster pocket and pulls out a bag full of caps. "This is what you gave me in Goodneighbor. Take it." He stops completely and hold out the bag.

I realize he's not going to keep moving until I do. Hesitantly, I take it. I don't want his money, but if it makes him feel better, fine.

"Now we're even," he says, walking on. I stare at the caps in my hand. I shove it deep into my pocket and catch up with him.

"Yeah, we're even." I say. We walk in silence for a while then I break the silence by saying, "do you think the Gunners will know it was us?"

"There's no way of knowing that it was us," MacCready says. "So, no. I don't."

I clench my jaw, "That's a lot of people dead now."

MacCready doesn't seem fazed by it. Maybe in his mind, killing all the Gunners was a good deed. The lesser of two evils. "I guess that means I'm going to Hell," he jokes.

"Hmm. Tell you what. When you get there, save a room for me, okay?"

"Why? What makes you think _you're_ going there?" He says, as if Hell was picky.

"I don't, but just in case." I shrug, "Gotta plan your contingencies, right?"

"Sure, partner," MacCready says slowly, obviously weirded out by that statement. "Let's just get Diamond City."

(-)

For the next few weeks, we were in Diamond City doing odd jobs for caps. And also because I needed a place to check in with Nick every other day on updates on the case. So far, nothing. I'd have to be patient while he was going over files and evidence.

In the meantime, it was nice getting to know MacCready better under less harsh circumstances. And without the constant threat of the Gunners on his back, he loosened up a bit.

I figured out pretty quickly that MacCready had been hoarding tons of the old Grognak comics in his backpack. He also loved Manta Man. I hated that shit. "It's not shi… bad," he tells me.

Me, I liked the Silver Shroud. Listened to it all the time way back when, loved the Unstoppables comics.

"Way too dark," MacCready says.

"This from a guy who kills people for a living."

"That's different," he says. "It's my job and you pay me to do it. Who's got the moral high-ground now?"

We argued a lot about dumb stuff like that. He was always arguing that comic books was literature, but literature is a serious topic when it comes to me. I read a shit-ton of books to get my law degree, and before when I did it for fun. I liked arguing with him, though. Kept me on my toes, since he was pretty honest with what he liked and didn't like. I read all of the Grognak comics I didn't read before for him. In return, I make him read an old copy of a book I scavenged. _Fahrenheit 451_ by Ray Bradbury. When he finished reading it, he told me he hated it. "Except," he says. "It's true. About not asking for guarantees, and doing your own saving. Bradbury's right about that."

I knew he was lying to me. I saw how he gripped the spine and feasted on the words inside. MacCready loved it, just like I did. Why he lied about it, I can only guess.

We weren't alike, MacCready and I. But we did have a few things in common. For one thing, comics. Which leads me to my next thing: Stories. We made up stories about the other settlers in Diamond City over a bowl of power noodles one day. MacCready points to a woman heading up to the stands, and whispers in my ear; "That woman there," he says. "I think she's having an affair."

"How do you know?" I whisper.

"She took off her wedding band while she walked past us."

I nod and smile.

We go back and forth, doing rounds of who could come up with the most bizarre thing. MacCready goes, "That woman there? She hates synths but she's actually married to one. He'll never tell, he thinks it's too ironic."

"That man there?" I point. "Everyone thinks he's got a boring life, or as boring as life can be in the Commonwealth. But actually, he's formed an underground fight club with his buddy who sells soap. Lots of people are in on it."

"That's pretty creative," MacCready says.

"Thanks, I made it up myself." Hopefully there's not still copies of _Fight Club_ hanging around the wastes, otherwise MacCready will know something's up. I ripped off a lot of pre-war books and movies while we were people watching. The Godfather, Forrest Gump, Casablanca. Not like he's gonna know. And now he thinks I'm creative, so who cares? The actors and the directors died centuries ago, not like they can defend it.

At the beginning of our third week in Diamond City, Nick finds me in the marketplace one afternoon and tells me he went back to Fort Hagen and he's got a lead and it's in Goodneighbor.

 _On the road again._


	8. Tread Lightly

**. . .**

" _Let me pull you out of there, as soon as you're ready… That's it, don't get up too quickly… How do you feel_?"

I had just finished Kellogg's memory transplants, and I didn't know how I felt. It made me... sad, but it didn't magically erase the things that he did. But I've got a lead to wear Shaun is, and that's a start. The Glowing Sea, huh? Sounds just the right amount of terrifying.

I left pretty quickly after that, not wanting to spend anymore time in the Memory Den than I had to. I walk down to the Third Rail to pick up MacCready.

Just wait here, I'll be back in an hour. _Anything I should be concerned about?_ No, just business. I'll be back soon. _Whatever you say, partner._

I said that to him three hours ago. It's not like I knew that reliving my arch-enemy's memory would take so long, how do you plan around that? I knew he was going to be pissed at me. I had to make it up to him somehow.

I check the date right next to the time on my Pip-boy: December 19th. It's just a week away from Christmas. Can't almost believe it's been only two and a half months in this hellscape. Feels like it's been forever.

After the snow started to fall back in the beginning of the month, that's when I started to panic. As long as I've got MacCready with me, I'll be fine, but let me just say winter isn't my favorite season anymore. I head into the VIP section of the Third Rail and find MacCready on his second beer. "Partner!" He says, clamouring up when he sees me enter. "Where were you? I thought you died."

"Sorry, lost track of time." I say, "But I can make it up to you."

He folds his arms, obviously pissed off. But he's tempted enough to roll his eyes and muster a smile, "Better be _good_ , Clarke."

I grin, putting my hands on my hips. I needed a distraction from the Commonwealth just as much as he did. I won't be able to stop thinking about Kellogg for a long, long time. "When was the last time you celebrated Christmas?"

* * *

The late-afternoon sun polishes the dusty windows of the superstore a lustrous gold. Inside, the lights has been faded to grey. We've got less than an hour to head back to Goodneighbor. The day may belong to us, but the night belongs to the mongrels and the Raiders. I've got no love for the Raiders, but I hate shooting the dogs.

"Hey, Mac," I call down the aisle. He's wandered off again in search of treasure. Comics, sweets, video games he can play on the Pip-boy.

"What?" He shouts back from the toy section.

"It's getting late. We have to make a decision here."

"I told you I don't care, you decide." Something crashes off a shelf and he almost swears, but catches himself.

I find myself chuckling, "You can curse all you want, you know." I call over to him. "Not your mother."

I hear him scoff, "It's not about _you_ , it's about a promise I made."

"Well you can tell me on the way back to Goodneighbor," I sigh. "Come on, Mac, we gotta haul this thing back three fucking miles, which I'd rather not do in the dark."

"Give me a second," he replies.

I turn back to the display. Well, the prelits are usless. That leaves either the six, eight, or ten foot. A six would be easy to transport, but they look like shit. Maybe their storeroom has some new ones in boxes. Because we're not hauling back a ten foot to Goodneighbor, and then to Sanctuary.

"Why are we doing this again?" MacCready's voice echoes in the empty superstore.

"Christmas is in a week," I remind him. "I missed last Christmas..." _And 200 more after that_ , "And that's the last Christmas I'm going to miss."

"What's the big deal about Christmas?" He asks.

"Everything."

"I dunno, partner." He says. "Seems like a stupid risk for a plastic tree."

I'm still debating with myself which tree to grab, turning around to the other side of the display case, in front of the shelves when I hear the crinkle of cellophane. I don't remember grabbing the 10mm. One minute it was tucked behind my pants, the next it was in my hands, muzzle up, safety off. I listen to the sounds of the abandoned store. Something was close. I took a tiny step away from the display case, and the broken glass crunched ever so slightly under my foot.

Something made that noise, and that something spoke again, somewhere between a cough and a moan. It came from behind the shelves, where the Christmas ornaments and wrapping paper was kept.

I followed the cough until I reached the end of the aisle. Hardly breathing, on the balls of my feet; Then I see him.

"Don't move!" I shout, clicking a bullet into the chamber of the pistol. "Lemme see your hands! _Hands_!"

He lay sprawled against the back of the shelf, clutching his stomach with one hand. He's wearing a Brotherhood uniform covered in grime and shimmering with blood. There was blood everywhere. On the wall behind him. Pooling on the floor beneath him. Coating his uniform. Matted in his hair. My heart slows a little, it's a soldier. I have a brief flashback of Nate _. My_ soldier.

MacCready rushes through the shelves, coming up behind me, noticing the soldier. "Crap."

"Other arm!" I shout at him.

"I'm unarmed…," the guy gasps in a deep Bostonian accent.

"Where's your squad?" MacCready asks, rifle out, muzzle down.

"No squad. Just me. Abandoned…" The words came out all cracked and crumbly, beaten up by the blood rising from his gut. Blood dribbled over his bottom lip and hung quivering from his chin. His teeth shone with blood.

MacCready notices the blood on his uniform, mostly dried but some fresh. "What happened?" he asks.

He shakes his head and coughs. A rattle in his chest. Pnuemonia, maybe. "We were ambushed," he manages after catching his breath. "Left behind." The arm pressing against his gut moves, and I tense up, holding the gun tighter.

The soldier grimaces, "please…" He moans.

 _Please what?_ I think. _Please help you so you can kill us? Please save my life so I can end others I find lesser than?_ I'm not stupid, I know what the Brotherhood does as new as I am to this world. But, no, I know that's not what he's asking at all. What he's really saying is: _Please be a human being._ With life so full of danger, it's so easy to forget that's what he is. But I know it's not _just_ that, he reminds me of Nate. The lost soldier. He even looks like him, brown eyes, dark hair, the same nose.

"Hang on a second," I say, tugging MacCready away from the solider to the opposite end of the aisle and whisper, "This is a problem."

MacCready shakes his head vehemently. "No it's not. We have to kill him."

"What if he's lying about being abandoned?" I whisper, "for all we know, we're surrounded and they're waiting for us to draw. We should just leave." _Please MacCready, don't make me do something I can't. Let's leave him with a stimpak, some gauze, painkillers. Let me be a human being._

"Leave?" He says, his eyes shining in the dying light, shining with hate and fear. "No, if he's lying about his squad, all the better reason to kill him before _he kills us_."

I know he's right, but I don't want to admit it. I don't want to admit that that's just how the world works now. _Kill him before he kills us_. It's heartbreaking. Sometimes, but not often, I wonder what Nate died for. For our son, yes. But maybe there was more to it. And I ask myself, how do we rebuild what's been lost? In an abandoned superstore, a man and a woman must mow down an innocent man because their trust has been shattered. There's no other option to be safe. This is all we have now: Kill the enemy before it kills us. The ultimate either/or type world.

Before I can respond, I notice the soldier moving behind him, my eyes widen in fear, "MacCready…"

"What?"

I lower the gun, MacCready turns his head. In the same moment, at the other end of the aisle, a silent battle is lost. The soldier lied; he was armed, and he used the time he had left to put the gun to his head and pull the trigger.

* * *

We walk back to Goodneighbor carrying a pretty shitty looking six foot christmas tree in tow. MacCready thought it was dumb to still take it with us after what happened, but I disagreed. _All the more reason to take it with us_ , I told him. _Christmas fixes everything._ MacCready told me I was being childish. I told him he could shove it.

We're half a mile away from Goodneighbor, sticking to the alleyways of the Financial District, avoiding the main roads. Once we're in Goodneighbor, we'll resupply and head for Sanctuary. Just until after Christmas, and then… Well, then the Glowing Sea. And I'm not terribly excited about going there. And I don't even know if MacCready will come with me.

MacCready brings me out of my thoughts and says, "Are we gonna talk about what happened in there?"

I huff, pulling the tree through the snow. "What's there to talk about?"

MacCready adjusts his hands on the tree, "You didn't want to kill him, if we're partners we need to be on the same page about dangerous people."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm just..." he hoists the tree up, finding his grip and pushes it forward, "Asking you why you didn't immediately kill him. You _know_ how dangerous people are."

"I don't know," I mutter biting my lip. Then I admit it, "He reminded me of my husband."

MacCready is quiet for a moment, then he says oh so eloquently, "Oh." We trudge forward in the snow. A few moments pass by cloaked in awkward silence, then MacCready says, "I'm sorry, partner."

"It was a long time ago," I shiver, my teeth chattering. _But it feels like it's only been days._ "Let's just get to Goodneighbor."

I speed up my pace, dragging the plastic tree faster across the debris and trash covered snow. Both of us are quiet for awhile, both trapped in our own thoughts. Then I say, because I think he deserves that much, "His name was Nate."

MacCready stills for a moment, but continues hauling the tree with me. I decide to keep talking, "It was Raiders. There was this attack on our settlement a few years back… Me and my son were the only ones who made it out." I mutter, keeping my head down. The lie makes me feel like my stomach is being twisted and turned all around. But he can't know I'm some… Vault freak. If he knew, he'd leave. And I can't be alone in the wasteland again.

Before he can speak, I say, "I don't want pity. I just… I just wanted you to know."

We stop moving the tree, standing there in an alleyway with the snow beginning to gently fall again. I look up, hoping he'll buy it. I don't even need him to buy it, just rent it for a while until I can tell him about 111.

He nods gently, "Thank you. For telling me."

I muster some sort of smile, ignoring the redness creeping up onto my cheeks and the sinking feeling in my gut. "It's nothing."

Liar. Murderer. It's only going down from here.

"So," I say breaking off the silence that hung in the air for a long time. "We ever going to talk about why you don't swear?"

"Oh," he chuckles nervously. "Like I said, it's about a promise I made. I used to live in Capital Wasteland. It's south of the Commonwealth."

"Why'd you leave?" I ask, putting down the Christmas tree. We need to take a rest anyway.

"Well, with the Brotherhood of Steel running the show, I couldn't find work or make enough to caps to…" He shakes his head and gulps. "Just couldn't make enough caps. So I hitched a ride here, found work with the Gunners. Good money, but… Well, you already know the end of that story."

I nod affirmatively, "What did you promise?"

"I left my family behind in the Wasteland. And I promised myself that I would get better, make myself better, for them." He pouts, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. "Because I'm not exactly proud of all the bad sh… Stuff out here."

I'm can't say anything, because I'm thinking of Shaun. What would he think, seeing his mom curse and shout and _kill_. That's not what a ten-year-old boy should be thinking about when he thinks of a mother. A mother should be kind, gentle, selfless. Like how mine was with me. My foster mom was arguably the best person I've ever known, and I'm doing nothing to follow her example. MacCready's doing the right thing, he's got the right idea.

"You're… You're a good person, MacCready," I practically whisper. "I don't think you know that, or you're told that enough, but you are."

"No, I'm not." He says harshly, then he takes a deep breath. "I used to run with the Gunners, they did really bad stuff, Clarke. And I never stopped any of it."

"You left didn't you?" I say. "It doesn't do you any good dwelling on the past like that…"

"No, you don't _get_ it," He rubs his neck and stops. "I'm a bad person, Clarke. You don't understand, you weren't there for all of it. I can try to do better all I want, but it doesn't change the past." He sighs and looks at his feet.

I frown, "So what?"

That makes him look up, "what?"

"I said, so what? Yes, you've done some bad things. I have too. And even if I can't ever make it up… I still have somebody who needs me. Somebody I can't give up on." My teeth chatter, but I manage to get out. "But it doesn't matter, because… Because we need to be _strong_. If not for ourselves, for our families."

I wrap my arms around myself, and think what I wouldn't give to actually have a real hug right now. More than anything, in this moment, I want Nate's arm holding me tight and whispering that it would be okay. That somehow, in this messed up world, I would be just fine.

I didn't expect MacCready to do that instead.

He moves so quickly that I didn't register it until his arms are wrapped around me. My arms dangle uselessly at my sides until I realize what he's doing. In a wave of defeat, I sigh and rest my head into his shoulder and wrap my arms around his neck.

"We'll be okay," I say against his shoulder.

It's a short hug really, and when MacCready pulls away, his face is tinged pink. I'm pretty sure mine is too. I smile at him when it's done; He smiles back.

"Thanks," I say when we finally pick up the tree and start moving again. "I needed that."

"You too," he nods. "For listening, and everything else. It's good, traveling with you."

"You, too."

MacCready sighs and rubs the back of his neck. "Look, I know I tend to be a pain in the ass... I mean, I know I tend to come off as arrogant, but nothing could be farther from the truth. Being alone scares the heck outta me."

"Yeah," I whisper, gazing down at my wedding ring. "I get it."

"Now that we've been traveling together for a while, I'm beginning to realize how much I've missed having someone to depend on," MacCready says. "I want you to know that I'm going to do everything that I can to make sure it stays that way."

That makes me stop in my tracks, my mouth slightly open at what he's said; It's weird, but the only word I can use to describe how it made me feel is _pre-war_. I haven't had someone care about me in that selfless way since 2077. And suddenly, I feel the same way. My heart clenches at the thought of losing him. He seems oblivious to my surprise, and continues to speak. "Well, that's all I had to say. Hope you got something out of that. I know I did."

Smiling, I bow my head and shuffle forward carrying our Christmas tree. "I did."

We continue heading for Goodneighbor.

* * *

 **Okay! Kind of a short chapter, but I hope you liked it! Don't forget to review!**


	9. Christmas

As ways to die go, freezing to death isn't such a bad one.

That's what I'm thinking as we reach the bridge to Sanctuary and I'm freezing to death. I'm taking my turn pulling the little red wagon with its green cargo behind us. That wagon we found in the abandoned playground two days ago was it's own little Christmas miracle.

I push forward, pulling our Christmas tree. I look over at MacCready, he's rubbing his hands together, blowing air into his palms. We haven't talked for hours, and it's a good thing too - there's a mutual agreement in the air right now that neither of us have said, but both of us understand: _If you talk to me right now, I'll snap at you. And it_ won't _be pretty._

MacCready breaks the sacred pact by saying, "Sanctuary."

I look up as we reach the blue-and-yellow sign. Nothing in the past few months can make me believe that this place is anything but sanctuary. It's funny, I never realized how true that word would be when we bought the house 200-something-years ago. It goes without saying; Sanctuary _is_ the name it owns.

I nod weakly, heading up the cul-de-sac. We pull the Christmas tree into my house through the garage, wheeling it into the house's corner, right where the TV and the holotape player is. Artificial and green, just the way I wanted it. Mac still didn't get it. _Why did we have to go all the way to that store? There has to be dozens of houses with Christmas trees in their attics._ No, I told him. We needed a 'new' Christmas tree, and it had to be fake. "Nothing that will die," I insisted.

Codsworth comes in to help set it up, once it's all done, we stand back to admire our handywork. Mac wipes his hands on duster and looks at me, "So you're the expert on Christmas," he says. "What's next?"

I grin, he does too. Slowly, he's getting why it's important; Because even though our situation sucks, Christmas can still be a possibly. I nod to Codsworth in the kitchen, "Christmas treats."

Me and Codsworth start making hot chocolate; The packs are 200 years old, but at this point, I don't think anyone would care. Since the stove is dead, Codsworth helps me make a fire in the garage and we warm up the water that way. By 'water' I mean we took untouched snow and boiled it down into water until I was sure there was no more radiation or chemicals. Then we add all of the little packets of hot chocolate it doesn't smell bad. In fact, it smells pretty good, the scent of chocolate is reminiscent of good memories. Like _childhood_ and _home_.

Once it's done, Mac helps me carry the pot into my kitchen, setting it down on the stovetop. Mac's about to dive right in, but I stop him. "Wait, hold up."

"What? C'mon this'll get cold soon," he grumbles. Mac's been complaining a lot in the past week. I blame it on his seasonal allergies; He's been sneezing like mad for three days, all while we were on the road. I tried to take care of it as best as I could, but all the medicine I found over over 200 years old.

I put back on my coat, pointing to the front door, "Let's get the settlers."

So we do. Preston, Sturges, the other Concord survivors, and Mary and Ben, the kids. When Mary saw the tree, she jumped up and squealed with delight. That plastic tree touched something deep. Ben can hardly believe his eyes, and Preston just chuckling to himself, saying I did good. Hell yeah I did good, I brought _Christmas_.

The settlers enjoy their hot chocolate in the living room, joking in light conversation. Preston pulls me aside to the hallway while everyone's enjoying their drinks and says just quietly enough for me to hear, "I think everybody needed this. Winter in the Commonwealth… it's not good for anyone. Thank you."

I smile, pulling Preston in for a hug. "Merry Christmas, Preston."

Although he's taken back by it, he returns the hug. "Merry Christmas."

When the fun dies down, the drinks have been had, and the kids have enjoyed the tree, the settlers leave, going to their assigned houses.

Since we came into Sanctuary relatively late, (around sunset) Mac and I just decide to retire early. I grab some old blankets from my coat closet and tell him to grab some shut-eye.

When I'm sure MacCready is asleep, I go to work. I start assembling the present I've been thinking about for the past week. It was harder to make on the road, but here in relative safety, it's eaiser. I do it by the light on my Pip-boy inside my old bedroom while MaCready sleeps in the living room. Once it's finished, I wrap it up in old newspaper and gently lay in under the Christmas tree. I look over my shoulder to Mac, snoring away on my couch. Smiling, I walk over and tug the blanket up to chin, staring at the contours and the lines of his face for longer than I want to admit.

I sigh, _it's just the stress, the loneliness,_ I have to tell myself. _It's just the fact that it's Christmas that's making you want to be near him. This is nothing._

I shift my body up and walk back to my room, ignoring the flush in my cheeks. I need to get myself in gear. I need to focus. No time for crushes. Not when Nate's corpse is only a walk away.

* * *

Christmas morning. I'm up way before him, when dawn is just a purple bruise on the sky and the snow sparkles reflecting the colors of the sky.

I swing my legs over the side of my bed, standing up, I go to the living room. I poke his cheek, "Mac."

He grumbles, swinging an arm over his eyes. "What?"

"It's Christmas," I say in a sing-song voice.

"It's _early_ ," he corrects me.

"But Santa left you something," I offer.

He lifts his arm, opening an eye. "Bullshit," he says evenly. I guess mornings are enough to make him swear.

I giggle, "No seriously, there's something under the tree for you."

Both of his eyes are open now, he grumbles and swings his legs up. "Clarke, I do not have the energy for this right now-"

I interrupt him by holding up his present: All shittily wrapped up in an old Boston Bugle newspaper. He rubs his eyes, looking at me for an explanation. I give him one. "Merry Christmas, Mac."

He pauses. Hesitantly taking the present carefully in his hands. We sit down together at the Christmas tree as he stares at the present in his hands.

"Well?" I say, "go on, open it."

He gives me this weird look, like he can't believe I'd do this and slowly unwraps it, savoring every second. He pulls away the paper until he sees it. Slowly, he pulls out the chain: It's a necklace with a number of charms on it. A soldier's helmet, a bottle cap, a heart, and a bullet.

He stares at me: " _You didn't"_ , he's telling me. I laugh, holding my hands up in defense: ' _I did_.'

He can hardly speak, staring at the necklace glittering in the early-morning sun. "I, wow, gee…" He smiles big, big enough that I can see all of his teeth. I've never seen him smile like that. "This is… I mean, just. Wow. This is really nice," he says, getting all flustered.

"Glad you like it," I laugh.

He looks puzzled, "Where'd you get the stuff to make this?"

"Remember that jewelry shop we scavenged last week, the one with all the headless mannequins, and you-"

"And I wanted to take the mannequins limbs and throw them in the dumpsters of Diamond City and watch people freak out," he laughs like I'd never seen him laugh before. "Yeah. I do. God, Clarke. This is… this is nice. Why'd you go and do something like this?"

I shrug, "You're my friend." There was so much _missing_ in that sentence. I wanted to tell him that I hadn't had a real friend since I woke up in the wasteland. Until him. I wanted to tell him that I didn't know people like him still existed in the world that was hell-bent on taking everything. I wanted to tell him that he was changing my life and I would never be the same, not ever. I wanted to tell him he was the first human being besides Nate who had ever made me want to talk about the things that scared me. I wanted to tell him so many things I was grateful for but I didn't have the words. So I just stupidly repeat myself. "You're my friend."

Mac smiles, putting on the necklace, admiring it on his neck. "I feel bad, I don't have anything for you."

I wave my hand in the air, not hearing it. "That's not the point of Christmas, it's not like a business deal; You don't give and get back. We're friends now. If I want to do something nice for you, I can do it without you giving something back."

He raises an eyebrow, "This feels weirdly like a debt, despite what you're saying. I still want to do something for you."

"Hmm, tell you what-" I pause. Placing my finger to chin, tapping slightly, "more shooting lessons would be nice. Now _that's_ a gift that can be put to use."

Mac grins and elbows my side, "It's a deal," he says. "Seriously. Thank you. This is… This is the nicest gift I've gotten since…" He trails off, looking bummed out.

I raise an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

He shakes his head, removing himself from his funk. "Nothing. Who cares, it's Christmas."

Not enough to convince me. "Mac, if you ever need to talk-"

"I _don't_ ," he pushes. "Don't worry about me, Clarke."

I don't believe him.

* * *

Later that morning, when the feel of Christmas has rubbed off, it gets pretty boring around Sanctuary again. Shivering, I stick my hands in my coat pockets for warmth. Suddenly, my left hand wraps around a holotape inside the pocket. I frown, knowing exactly what it is. Nate's holotape. I've yet to finish it.

Taking my hands out, I drum my fingers on the counter of the bar boredly, watching Mac take away his rifle on the dinner table, cleaning away, a cigarette pressed between his lips. He notices me after a while, and flicks his eyes to his gun again. "Want one?"

"What?" I yawn.

He sets down his rag and pulls a small box out of his coat pocket. Throwing me the box, I catch it in midair. ' _Grey Tortoise Cigarettes_.' "You know these things give you cancer, right?"

He blinks, looking at me incredulously. I felt like shrinking back: Oh. Right. In a world filled with things hell-bent on killing you every day, getting cancer isn't as big of a deal as it used to be. I shrug defensively, "Well, I mean, it was a pretty common thing to get back in the pre-war days."

He snorts, "Why do you care about what happened pre-war?" He says, sliding his wet rag up and down the barrel of the rifle.

"I don't," I say a little too quickly. "I just like history." Then I add, "Um, pre-war sucks."

He laughs, the cigarette moving wildly inside his mouth. "You're something else, partner."

 _Don't need to tell me twice._ I stand up, putting the cigarettes back on the table, "I'm gonna go take a walk, okay?"

He looks up from his gun, "Did I say something?"

"No," I say. "Just… Want some fresh air."

He looks sad, but wipes the look off of his face pretty quickly. "Don't forget your 10mm."

I lift up my coat so he can see it in my holster, "Wouldn't dream of it."

I grab my teddy bear from my back before I go. I flip my hoodie up, zipping up my coat all the way. I pull the holotape out, ' _Hi Honey!"_ it reads. I clutch it in my hands, walking towards the bridge to sanctuary. When I get there, I sit on the edge of the middle of the bridge, swinging my legs back and forth. I take a deep breathe, and pop the tape into my Pip-boy resuming playback:

" _Look, with Shaun and us all being home together it's been an amazing year but even so I know our best days are yet to come. There will be changes sure, things we'll need to adjust to. I'll rejoin the civilian workforce, you'll shake the dust off your law degree. But everything we do no matter how hard, we do it for our family. Now say goodbye Shaun. Bye bye, say bye bye. Bye honey, we love you."_

I shudder, exhaling a breath I didn't even know I was holding. I pop the tape out, and shove it back into my pockets, burying my face into the ratty teddy bear. Nate's words echo inside my mind, bouncing off metaphorical walls: _Everything we do, no matter how hard, we do it for our family_.

Well Nate, it's a cute sentiment, but I don't think you were thinking of the Glowing Sea when you said it.

Shivering, I rub my shoulders, blowing air into my palms while the teddy bear sits in my lap. I look towards the neighborhood, thinking of the nursery inside my home. One day, that room is going to house a child, and the only person who's gonna make that future happen is me. The way I see it, there are two kinds of guilt. The kind that's a burden and the kind that gives you purpose. I can't figure out just yet what kind of guilt I feel for my husband, but I know what guilt I feel for Shaun. In my weakness for him, I'll let my guilt be my fuel. I'll let it remind it remind me of who I want to be and where I need to go; I have a soul. It's damaged but it's there. The world can't take that from me.

I sit in silence for a while, staring at the frozen river beneath my feet, listening to the creaking of the bridge as my weight is on it.

Eventually, I hear footsteps on the bridge, I look up: MacCready's walking up to me. He sits with me on the bridge. "You okay?" He asks.

I want to tell him yes, but I don't like lying to him more than I have to. "I had to watch him die again," I explain, my voice hoarse.

"What?"

"When we were in Goodneighbor?" I begin, "I went to the Memory Den, and I…And I saw this memory of him and had watch Nate die all over again, and I saw the _blood_ -"

MacCready's eyes are on me, but I can't bring myself to look at him. He wraps one arm around my shoulders, "...Crap. Nora, I didn't even _know_."

And although I have the urge to push him away, I find myself leaning into him until I can feel his heartbeat in my ear. I close my eyes, burying my nose in his coat, trying to ignore the tears pooling in the corners of my eyes. "It's why I just wanted a _stupid_ Christmas tree. Because I just thought... I don't know what I thought." My whole body is shaking, both from the cold and from the grief. "Christmas is just special. Bad things don't _get_ to happen on Christmas."

MacCready pats my back, the pad of his thumb rubbing my shoulder. He sighs for a long time and says quietly, gently: "It gets easier. Well, I mean - not by much. It gets more _bearable_."

I lean up, making the mistake of holding his gaze. Understanding dawns upon me. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't; I think only in movies is horror vocal. I shudder, my heart burning in empathy. "You _can't_ be speaking from experience."

His lips part, and in his silence, a thousand words are spoken. My heart feels like it sank to my gut. I muster out the only words I feel were notable, "MacCready, I'm _so_ sorry." I mean every word of it; I hope he knows.

He fakes some sort of smile, meeting my eyes. I look down quickly because it's not an easy gaze to hold- there's some sort of suffering, of heartache, that I can't bear looking at. I lean back under his chin again, wrapping my fingers around his free hand, feeling the warmth spread around my cheeks. He goes back to rubbing his thumb into my shoulder. We sit quietly together for a few minutes, until MacCready says, "It wasn't too far off from Raiders."

I lift my head up, "what?"

"Didn't your husband die from a Raider attack?"

I duck my head down, hiding my face. "Yes, he did," I lie, playing with Mr. Bear's ears.

"Well," he goes on, unaware. "It was ferals for me. We were holed up in this abandoned metro station one night… If I had known that the place was crawling with…" He sighs, closing his eyes tightly together, pointing his head down. "I'm just trying to say, I get it. It _sucks_."

I nod, "Yeah. It fucking _sucks_." Not even close to how depressing it really is, but it's a start. I sigh, running my thumb over his fingers. "I'm glad you're here with me."

MacCready's breath stills, "yeah?"

I roll my eyes, but he can't see so the gesture is lost. "Don't let it get to your head," I laugh slightly at the end so he knows it's not hostile. He does too, "No promises, Clarke."

"Not counting on it."

He chuckles softly. We stay in comfortable silence for much longer than a few minutes. One hand holding Mr. Bear, the other hand wrapped on his, his other hand around my shoulder. I relax easily, evening humming some Christmas tune softly under my breath.

Then he asks, "What was he like? Your husband, I mean."

It takes me aback, but I eventually find the words to describe him. "Tough. Funny. Smart. He loved to talk. And he loved baseball."

"What about you?" MacCready asks.

"It's not my favorite sport," I try to joke.

"Not what I meant and you know it."

"I know," I wince. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to do this alone," he says. "More than anyone, I get it-"

"I know. I do, I just… I don't know." _I don't like talking about it._ "I shouldn't have told you."

He lets out a noise, somewhere behind a huff and a laugh. "So why did you?"

 _Because you're my bullshit-free zone. Because you_ do _get it. Because the world ended yet I still found you. Because you're the one person I trust._ Instead, I say, "The holidays do weird shit to people."

He smiles, huffing some sort of laugh. "Well," MacCready says slowly, choosing his words carefully. "In case New Years just completely fu- messes you up, I'm with you."

I smile, pressing my lips onto my nasty stuffed animal's head. Really neat that human beings conquered the earth, invented poetry and discovered mathematics and created art. Learned that time and space are relative, made laws and justice systems. Very cool that we split the atom and went to the moon and made atomic weapons and nuclear powered cars and domestic british robots and Pip-boys.

But the most wonderful thing of all, our highest achievement and the one thing for which I pray we will always be remembered, is stuffing wads of polyester into an anatomically incorrect, cartoonish ideal of one of nature's most fearsome predators for no other reason than to soothe a child.

' _I'm with you_ ,' he told me. Well, I'm with him too. I hope he knows it.


	10. Slocum Joe's

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 **Without further ado, please enjoy Chapter 10 of Do Not Go Gentle!**

* * *

Late morning sun filters in through the curtains. Birds are chirping from just outside my window. The familiar hum of a radio station plays softly in the background slowly lulls me back to sleep. Until I hear the phone ringing.

My eyes fly open and I scramble out of bed. I'm in a bed - my bed. My college dorm room, all intact like it was before the war, before Shaun was kidnapped and Nate was killed.

"What the hell," I whisper, my toes curling the soft carpet below my feet. I'm touching all of it, my hair- long and silky, my clean clothes, the polish on my nails: A bright cherry red, my favorite color.

I'm back. I did it. I don't know how but maybe it was all some drug induced dream.

The phone, it's still ringing. I grab it, twisting the cord with my fingers. I don't even care who's on the other line, I just want to remember what voices sound like through a phone line. "H… Hello?"

"Nora!" Cheers his voice on the other side of the phone. "Are you okay? You took a while to answer."

I cup a hand around my mouth, muffling my sobs. "N-Nate? Holy shit, is that you?"

A pause on the other end of the phone, "Hello?" I almost shout.

"I'm still here," he comforts. "Damn, are you okay? Listen, I just wanted to know if we were still on for our date tonight. Slocum Joe's at seven?"

 _I get to see you? I get to see you again?_ "Yes! Yes, of course I'll be there!"

I hear him laugh on the other end of the phone, I want to bottle the sound and live in it forever. "Don't sound too excited Nora, don't you want to play hard to get?"

"Hell no," I say. "Playing hard to get is for suburban school-children who don't know what they want. I want to see you _now_."

He laughs so hard it's infectious, "Okay. Okay. So, Slocum Joe's?"

"Wouldn't miss it for anything," I promise.

Suddenly, the scene shifts before I know it, and three hours have passed in _seconds_. My outfit is different, instead of the PJ's I was favoring, I'm in this dress that I know he loves and my hair is flowing off my shoulders, curled perfectly, my side part clipped up, waving elegantly.

I step into the bar, searching wildly for him. I keep having to blink, afraid it's all going to vanish in a second. Suddenly, I see him, sitting at the edge of the bar, sporting a Gwinnett Stout, his favorite. I raise my hands to my lips to call him, but another girl stops me from doing so. My brows scrunch in frustration, stepping forward, wanting to know who she was.

As I get closer, the mystery is unraveled: It's me.

Confused, I step back. Wondering what I was already doing. I look around the bar, seeing if anyone is seeing the same thing I am. Nobody cares. I step closer towards them, trying to listen in to what's happening.

"You're going to be really proud of me," Other Nora says excitedly, planting a kiss on his cheek before sitting down.

"I'm always proud of you," Other Nate smiles. "What happened?"

"I got that internship at the Cambridge law firm. I start next Monday."

I frown, shaking my head. _This has already happened._ What am I doing here? I should be telling him this, not her _. Is this some sort of dream_?

I admire the bar at Slocum's, the lighting, the music playing in the back; Something different, something not on Diamond City radio. Even if this is a dream, I don't want to leave. I don't want to wake up.

I turn back towards us, but the mood has shifted. I remember the conversation all too well, this memory I have to relive. I don't even need to listen in to know what we're talking about.

I do anyway:

"...And what would we do then?" Other Elenora says.

"I don't know," Other Nate said. "Get married, have kids."

She blinks, not expecting that answer. _I didn't expect that answer_. Other Elenora huffs, "You really want to have kids in this world?"

"Somebody's got to," Other Nate said, taking a swig of his beer. "Besides, I wouldn't mind having one in this world with you by my side."

Other Elenora looks at him mournfully, flicking her eyes away when he stares back. As if he can read her mind, he says it before she could. "You're scared because you think I'm going to be drafted."

"Aren't _you_?" Other Nora argues.

"Nora, we talked about this, we're winning the war right now, we don't need extra troops. And if we did, they'd only draft those with poor grades, you know, like they did with our grandparents."

She shakes her head, "but what if you did, Nate? What if you..."

Nate put down his drink and takes her hands, which are so small, he can completely cover them in his own. "You worry too much," he tells her, then putting on a winning smile, kisses her. Other Elenora practically melts away, it's kind of embarrassing to watch. He pulls away and looks up. "Ed!" He says.

 _Ed_? My heart jumps to my throat as he walks into the scene, all perfect looking and _not_ the drafted soldier and _not_ broken definitely _not_ dead from the horrors of war. Just Ed. Our mutual friend.

"Alright lovebirds, don't get started without me," he jokes, shrugging his coat off. "Hey bartender, gwinnett stout, ice cold!" He commands, pulling up a bar seat, he shoves a handful of bar nuts into his mouth. "Hey, Elle, you ordered something yet?" He says casually.

"No, I will soon." Other Elenora says.

"Sounds good," Ed says, taking off his hat.

"Have you heard from your parents yet?" Other Nate asks. Small talk. _God_ , I miss small talk.

"No, they're still in Washington working on those damn Vaults. God, can you _imagine_ living in one of those things? I mean, I know the commercials are all cheerful and shit, but I'd go bat-shit crazy locked up like that, knowing that the world had been completely f-"

"Ed," Other Nora interrupted. "Can we talk about something else?"

"What, Nora? Don't want to be _prepared for the future_?"

Other Nate rolls his eyes, "cut it out, Ed."

"Hey, you were the one that asked," he says. The bartender came back with his drink and Ed passes him a twenty-five. "Besides I didn't come here to talk about vaults. _C'mon_ , we were supposed to have fun tonight. Nora, order a drink. A good one."

The scene begins to dissipate, as all three begin talking less. It begins raining lightly outside, it's almost pleasant.

I rub my shoulders, wanting to walk over and _touch_ and _talk_ to them, but it's not going to change anything. So I settle on just watching the three of them laugh and smile together. It's almost sad; The couple unaware that war will destroy their relationship, the best friend unaware he'd lose his life to the same cause.

I turn away from the scene, _the memory_ , walking towards the jukebox. A jazzy tune is playing, but I know from memory that soon a slow song will play, Ed will knock some girl he's picked up off her feet, and me and Nate will dance to some song I've forgotten the lyrics to.

I enjoy the feeling while I'm here, the song playing, the smell of clean air, clean people. What civilization used to look like.

 _Ten thousand years to build up, two hours to knock out._

I sway in place, bobbing my head to the tune. A finger prods my shoulder. I turn, and find MacCready taking both of my shoulders and shaking me hard. The panic in his eyes all too familiar.

" _Nora_." He says, his voice all muffled, like I'm hearing him from the bottom of a swimming pool. He never uses my real name, so it's off putting.

I shake my head, raising a hand to my ear. "MacCready, stop. I'm trying to listen to the music."

" _Nora_." His voice is still muffled, like something is stopping him from speaking clearly. He shakes me harder, it pisses me off.

I smack his hands away, pushing myself away from him. "Stop," I say firmly. "What's wrong with you? I'm trying to listen-"

There's no more music playing. Just the mind numbing sound of static. I furrow my brow, "What did you do? You did something, didn't you?"

"Nora...Nora."

"Stop!" I snap, "I'm here with Nate, you don't have to be here anymore-" I turn around, fully expecting us to all still be standing there, but there's no one in Slocum's anymore.

I frown, "They were just here…"

I flick my eyes, looking out the window, and it's happening all over again: The end of the world. The bombs have dropped and the world is _screaming_.

But in all of it, MacCready still stands there, not minding that I'm freaking out, that I'm panicking. He puts both hands on my shoulders and says, "You need to _wake up_."

"What?"

Then, suddenly, out of the ocean of noise, I hear the raindrops again. Impossibly big-obese-raindrops hit a metal roof.

Somebody is screaming.

And then I'm awake. MacCready is shaking me. "Wake up, _wake the hell up, Nora_!"

"What?"

The raindrops are gunshots echoing through the streets.

"We're in Raider territory!" He explains.

" _What?_ Mac-"

" _We gotta go_!"

He pulls me up, and adrenaline is jetting hot through my veins. I see the lights bouncing off the walls of the buildings, from the scopes of rifles, armed and pointed at us. I sling my pack over my shoulders, reaching down for my sleeping bag, MacCready swats my hands away; "Leave it!"

I wrap my fingers around the cold metal of my 10mm instead as MacCready shoves it into my hands. We run outside of the laundromat where we stayed the night, a burst of cold air hitting our faces, our backs, every side of us as we step outside into a full blown snowstorm. My hand find his as I wrap my cold fingers around his, "We can lose them in the storm!" I shout so he can hear me, shielding my eyes. He nods, and we pull forward together.

The world is screaming, the snow blows my hair in every direction that I have to rely on Mac to lead us through the snowstorm. The gunshots are blasting from every corner in the alleyways it seems. The darkness, combined with the sludge-like snow pulls down our feet, holding us back from running faster. I tighten my grip around his hand; This is terrifying.

Eventually, the shooting draws back from trigger happy, to only one or two shots in a few minutes. Hiding behind an abandoned building, we hold until the shooting stops.

Once it does, we stay in the alleyway for five minutes, which slowly draws into an agonizing ten. It's so cold, my whole body is shaking, my teeth are chattering, and I'm sure I'll never remember what it means to be warm. In frustration, I bit my lips, shoving my hands into my under arms. I huddle against MacCready, ignoring whatever social constructs we've built up against each other - I just want to be warm. "We need to hide somewhere warm," I mutter, my lips becoming blue.

MacCready lifts his head up, the snow blowing against him. "All of the buildings are boarded up."

"There has to be something," I argue.

MacCready nods, pulling me up. We stand together, trekking through the abandoned city - Cambridge I think.

As we walk in the middle of the night, my Pip-boy illuminating the dark alleyways, the storm begins to subside, the wind doesn't blow as hard and walking become easier. Without the cover of the storm, we pull out our guns. With one hand on my 10mm, I wrap my fingers around MacCready's hand.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" He asks, loosening his grip.

I give him this look that claims I don't give two shits what he thinks; I'm scared, and he's going to hold my goddamned hand.

He sighs, nodding his head understandingly. "I still need both hands on my rifle, you know," he points out.

"Tough shit." I squeak out. I'm fucking terrified of Raiders, and as a result, he's going to deal with hand holding.

He sighs, tightening his hold on my hands. "Okay."

We trot down the alleyway, my feet dripping with melted snow getting in my boots. We listen close for signs of the Raiders.

We hold for a minute. It's so damn quiet. You'd think the town would be overrun with packs of wild dogs barking and feral cats howling or even a damn owl hooting, but there's nothing. Is it all in my head, this feeling of being watched? That there's something out there I can't see but sure as hell can see me? I glance at MacCready, who's just as spooked.

We move out, not on the quick now but sidestepping to the opposite side of the street, where we slide along the wall of the consignment store facing the dealership (SAVE 15% OR MORE THIS HALLOWEEN!). We don't stop until we reach the next intersection. Check right, check left, then straight ahead toward downtown, three blocks away, the buildings' big boxy shadows silhouetted against the starry sky.

A little voice in my head whispers: _You need to bug out. You need to get out of town now._ The cool, quiet voice of reason, which strangely, in my mind, sounds like Nate.

We trot across the intersection, then stop again on the other side, pressing our backs against the wall and waiting- for what, I'm not sure. We scoot past busted out doors and shattered windows, the sounds of glass crunching under our boots louder than sonic booms, another block, then repeating the drill, left around the corner, right across Main, then zipping to the relative safety of the next building on the opposite corner. No buildings. Nothing to sleep in for the night.

We make it another fifty yards and when we reach another intersection. I spot something that I want, I tug at MacCready's hand leading him through a broken glass door and into the near dark of a shop, the Pip-boy's green eerily lighting up the store. Broken glass litters the floor. The smell is faint, but it's there, beneath the familiar rot of sewage and smoke: Coffee.

I bring him towards the bar, facing towards the doorway and he gives me this look: _What's up?_

"This is a Slocum Joe's," I sigh. Like that should explain something to him. I take a seat at the bar, the same bar I stood in some two hundred years back. "I love coffee," I say wistfully.

He sits besides me, right where Nate was. We don't talk. The minutes drag out. Finally, he says, "We gotta be the hell out of this town by sunrise. I think Bunker Hill's nearby."

I nod slowly, my heart not really into what he's saying. I chew on my lip, "I think there's someone out there."

"You saw them?"

I shake my head, thinking about it. "But I feel them. You know? I _feel_ them. Maybe it's another sniper, better than you even." I suggest, humoring him.

"Better reason to get the hell out of here," he tells me, completely seriously: He's just as spooked as I am. Maybe even more. At this point, we're probably just hoping it's paranoia.

I drum my fingers along the countertop. "What do you think this place looked like before the war?" I ask, my heart rising to my throat as I say it.

MacCready blinks, "What's your thing with pre-war sh… stuff anyways?"

I shrug in a noncommittal way. "I dunno. Maybe I just ask questions nobody wants to answer. That's my thing, you know?"

I looks at me sadly, tilting his head to the side, like he's trying to figure me out. Then, out of the blue, he asks me the strangest question. "Does your teddy bear have a name?"

I blink. Then, despite everything, I laugh. "Mr. Bear," I tell him.

"Mr. Bear?" He asks. Like I just told him I believe in aliens: ' _Are you serious?'_

I smile, "Yeah. Well. Yeah. I don't know. It's my son's. I'm just holding onto it for him," I tug Mr. Bear from my pack and hug him to my chest. I press my face into the top of it's ratty old head. He smells like smoke and sweat and dirt and my home. "It's the first thing I plan on doing when I find him. He's getting his damn bear back." I hold out the stuffed animal, staring into it's button eyes. "I made a promise I'd get him back.. Sometimes… I don't know, it's stupid."

"What?" MacCready's elbow is propped up on the table, hand cupped in his chin, enthralled in what I'm saying.

I sigh, "I pretend like it's him. Like when he was a baby. I don't know, I know it's weird. It's kind of like how a little kid pretends the doll is actually their kid? I pretend it's Shaun." I pause, waiting for his judgement.

It doesn't come, instead he smiles warmly. "His name's Shaun?"

I smile back. "Yeah. Shaun," I say. God, it just feels good to say his name aloud. Like it's not a secret anymore.

He hesitates, I ask him what's wrong. And then he says a most amazing thing. "My son's name is Duncan. He's got a thing for a toy alien, not a teddy bear."

I laugh softly, then, I put Mr. Bear back into his spot in my pack. "Aliens, huh? So he's a nerd just like his dad? What's it's name? _Grognak_?"

His face is red, and it's not from the cold. My mouth drops open, "Shut up. It is not." I can't help but laugh. "Dear god, you're raising a mini _you_."

"No I'm not," he says rolling his eyes. "It's name is Manta Man."

"Holy shit," I wince. "That's _worse_. And Duncan came up with that? Not you?"

He playfully nudges my shoulder, "shut up," he laughs.

I do too, rubbing my shoulders for warmth. The laughter dies down and eventually, it's quiet again. Eerily quiet. I bit my lip, "we should keep moving. Isn't there a settlement nearby?"

"Yeah, Bunker Hill-" He begins. Then he freezes. He looks startled, as if he's seen a ghost. Then MacCready launches at me, rising to his feet and coming straight at me with outstretched like he's going to grab me by the throat and choke the life out of me.

I raise my hands instinctively to block the attack. My fingers catch hold of his duster. MacCready's head snaps back. His body stiffens, then goes limp.

I hear the report of the sniper rifle a second later, the kind of rifle with a laser-guided scope, which fired the bullet that a second before was coming straight at my head.

The bullet that MacCready took for me, accepted without hesitation, because… why? Because I'm the boss. The CO, the thick-headed moron that was supposed to keep both our asses alive.


	11. The Infiltrator

I grab him by the shoulders and drag him behind the counter. Out of line of fire but also cornered; I don't have much time. I put him on his stomach, yank up his duster and the two shirts underneath to expose the wound. A quarter sized hole right in the middle of his back. The bullet has to be inside him- otherwise I'd be hit, too.

His chest moves; He's breathing.

I run a shaky hand through my hair. "You impulsive son-of- _bitch_ , why'd you go and do that?" He doesn't say anything. Probably needs all his energy just to _breathe._

 _Nora, you can't stay here._ That calm, Nate-ish voice again. _Cut him loose._

Sure. Cut him loose. That's my thing. That's how I roll. I cut Nate loose, I cut that Brotherhood soldier loose. They go down and I keep going; Because I have to be the survivor at all costs, right?

Fuck that.

I crawl back to the front of the counter, grab MacCready's bag and go back to him. He's curled into a ball, knees pressed against his chest, and his eyelids flutter like someone having a bad dream. I tear through his bag, looking for a stimpak and gauze. I have to do something to stop the bleeding; I have to pack the wound. If I don't pack it and pack it fast, he could bleed out in less than a few minutes.

MacCready's shaking, it must hurt like hell, it must hurt so goddamned _bad_. I need to take away his weapons. So I pull his sidearm from the holster and tuck it into my back, kicking the rifle behind us.

In order to pack it, I need some sort of thin metal rod to push the gauze into the wound- But there's nothing.

 _Get out, Nora. You're a woman outta of time. Out of luck._

I stick the stimpak into his back, tightening up as I hear his terrible screams. I push the gauze into the hole in his back with my finger. MacCready bows up. He screams. Then he instinctively tries to escape, clawing at the base of the counter for a handhold, and I wrap the fingers of my free hand around his neck to keep him still.

"It's okay, Mac. It's all gonna be okay…" I shudder as my finger sinks inside him, pushing the wad of gauze ahead of it. More gauze, gotta pack it tight. _If that bullet sliced an artery…_

I pull my finger out. He lets loose another banshee howl, and I cup his chin, forcing his mouth closed. I don't move slow, I don't go gentle. I ram another wad into the wound. MacCready is jerking against me, grunting helplessly. I lie on my side behind him and throw my leg over his torso to keep him still. "One more time, Mac," I whisper. "Almost there…"

Then it's done. The gauze pokes out of the wound; I can't push any more inside. I tear open a bandage with my teeth and slap it over my handiwork. I roll onto my back, pulling hard for air. Probably too little, too late. Besides me, he whimpers. His body shudders against mine; he's going into shock.

Back into the bag to find something for the pain. He's on his way out, he's _dying_ , I'm pretty sure of that, but at least I can help him go easy. I put a syrette of Med-X into his exposed hip. The effect is almost immediate. His muscles relax, his mouth goes clack, his breathing slows.

"See? Not so bad," I tell him, like I'm settling an argument. "You saved my life, Mac." I inhale, exhale, controlling my shaky breathing. "God bless you, you absolute miracle."

* * *

Should I stay or should I go? Do I watch and make sure Mac will live or do I fight the bastard who shot him? What do I do? How do I fight this? I can't focus, all I can do it run my hands through Mac's hair, staring at his chest, praying that it'll continue to rise and fall. _Rise and fall, rise and fall, don't do anything different. Don't you leave me alone._

Whoever shot him is out there, armed and dangerous, and whatever beef they've got with us, they aren't letting up soon.

 _Either/or, Nora. Either/or._

Shit.

Back around the corner to fetch his rifle. I've used it a couple times in practice, but this isn't tin cans anymore.

I wait for a few minutes, then I flip him over so he's not his his stomach, smoothing his hair with my hand. His forehead is blazing hot beneath my hand, I think he's fallen asleep from the shock.

I look away from him. But there's nothing else to look at. Looking back down, I pull his hand into mine. "Now, listen to me: I'm going to let you rest and then we're going home. We're all going home and _everything's gonna be fine._ Because I'm the boss and that's how I say it's gonna be. You got that? Are you listening to me, Mac? You're not allowed to die. Understand? _You are not allowed to die._ "

His eyes jitter behind the lids, maybe he's dreaming. Maybe he's back home in Capital Wasteland playing with Duncan; I hope so.

I rub my thumb over his fingers, "I'm going to take out whoever shot you, Mac. And it'll be safe to leave. Then I'm coming back for you. I'm coming back or I'll die trying. Probably die, so don't get your hopes up."

I let out a shaky sigh, smoothing out his hair with my fingers. Leaning down, I press my lips onto his forehead. I hold there for two, three seconds. Then I'm back up, flicking off my Pip-boy light, scooting on my hands and knees down the hallway to the emergency exit door, leaving him behind lying in coffee grounds and wads of paper napkins, and scattered coins.

Onto the side street, beneath the cold starlight. I'm alone for the first time since my family's murder, but this time, I'm not helpless. And despite the fear, there's something else there, too: Pride. I'm getting better at survival, and this is where I show it.

Easing up the corner, I peek around the edge of the coffee shop. Directly across from it is a three-story, windows boarded up on the bottom floor, fractured on the top two. It's exactly the spot a sniper could peek through if they saw someone on their turf.

I pop some .308 ammo in the rifle, clicking off the safety. Hiding behind the side of the building, I take the rifle, peering through the scope. I look for signs of movement, the glint of gunmetal in moonlight, an open window - anything.

"C'mon you _bastard_ ," I mutter, hardly above a whisper. "Gimme something to work with."

I hold for a few seconds, bouncing on the balls of my feets anxiously. Then, I see something, the flick of a lighter creates a small flame that I could've missed if I blinked or had the scope down.

I've got them, I know where they are. _Stay or go, Elenora? Stay or go?_

I look behind my shoulder, feeling the winter wind down my neck. Shivering, I go quietly across Main Street, everything inch of my body tingling, expecting the punch of the sniper's bullet.

The street is choked with trash and broken glass, slick with residue from ruptured sewer lines and water mains, puddles of radiated water glimmering in the starlight. The building is straight ahead.

Time to make the call. Once I penetrate the building, I'm all in, there's no going back.

I can't believe this is what I'm choosing. I feel like I'm leaving MacCready behind. _Hey, Mac, I know you took a bullet for me and everything, but you're on your own, pal. I'm outta here. Sorry!_

 _Damn it, Nora, focus. You're planning a murder here. Mac knew the risks and he traveled with you anyway. Taking that bullet for you was his call, his choice, he wasn't forced into anything. Going back means he took the bullet for nothing. And if he dies, his death's got to mean something._

 _If he dies_. Shit. I won't think about it. _Focus. Focus._

But I can't. I'm all jacked up, about to lose it. I'm bouncing from one brutal death to another. Eventually, something very important inside is going to crack.

I step through a broken plate-glass window and into the lobby of an apartment building. The damp, rotting carpet squishes beneath my boots, wet from the melting snow. I sweep the lobby quickly, then I'm up the stairwell.

Second floor. I keep moving up. Third floor is where my target is.

On the landing where the stairs turn, I head up, making it on the third floor. I pause, thinking how I'm going to play this. I've got to be methodical with this. Think through every move before I make it.

I walk on my toes, listening for something, _anything_ that's going to tell me where they are. At the end of the hallway, I can see a little sliver of light shining behind the door. Okay. That's off-putting. So my sniper isn't just a bastard, but a _brazen_ bastard.

I sneak to the end of the hallway, once I'm there, I press my ear against the door. Silence. Though it feels obvious, I don't feel sure on what to do. The door could be booby-trapped or maybe the light is bait, some kind of lure to pull me into an ambush. But that's stupid isn't it? They aren't expecting me, so there's no reason for bait. Maybe it's just carelessness.

My hand hovers over the cold metal door handle. _You don't ease in, Clarke. You bust through. You have to_ maul _it._

I tuck the loose strands of hair behind my ears, adjusting the gun in my hands, stalling. _I can do this, I can do this._

I throw open the door, whip sharply to my left, then to my left, then step into the hall and turn back hard to the right. The living room's lit, but not occupied. I notice the doorway connecting where the kitchen should be.

Stopping just short of the door, I tug a stun grenade out of my coat pocket. I slip my finger into the pin. My hands are shaking, a dribble of sweat courses down the middle of my back. _Do it, do it, doitdoitdoit…_

I pull the pin and toss the grenade through swinging door. A blinding flash, and the terrified cacophony of someone screaming.

Not thinking, I swing into the doorway, sighting the crumpled figure in the far corner of the room, somebody young looking. I ignore it, putting my muzzle up, staring at her face more detailed through the scope. But I can't.

It's a kid, just some teenager. Did a teenager seriously take out Mac? Is that what teenagers are like nowadays? She can't be older than seventeen.

I hesitate in pulling the trigger. I don't know what stops me. Maybe it's because she's so young. Maybe it's because she reminds me of that abandoned soldier cowering in a corner, doomed. Or maybe it's because of the flicker of a kerosene lamps placed around the room that shows me she isn't armed. Instead of a sniper's rifle, the teenager's clutching a pack of cigarettes, one lit in her mouth.

I frown, wanting to pull the trigger, but finding I can't. Something is off, something I can't place but I can feel.

A chill runs down my back - _fuck_. Cornered, alone and I've got a dying man three stories below that'll die if I don't come back to him. I sling my rifle over my shoulder, draw MacCready's sidearm I took, and order her up.

"What do you want?" She says, her voice cracks slightly.

I point the muzzle at the cigarettes, "drop them."

She blinks, looks at me like I have two heads. "You want me to drop my cigarettes?"

"Drop it," I order.

"It's just cigarettes…"

"Drop the damn box!" _Don't you know they give you cancer?_

She drops the damn box. I tell her to face the wall and put her hands on the top of her head. She puts up this tough front, like she's taking whatever I'm dishing with dignity. I step up behind her, patting her down. _Okay, Nora. She's not armed. Now what?_

"Who else is here?" I say to the back of her head.

"No one, just… No one. All gone."

"Who's all gone?"

She fidgets in her place, saying nothing. I loosen my grip on the sidearm. _Oh_ , I think as it clicks for me. But I can't take it at face value. "Are you lying?"

"No," she says behind gritted teeth.

"Can you prove it?"

She lost it. "No! And if you wanna _check_ , bitch, do it yourself!"

I frown. I'm dragging this on for too long. "Okay. Fine. Where's the rifle?"

" _What_ rifle?"

"Don't play stupid with me, I know it was you. My friend's been shot." My voice breaks. "Either you shot him or someone you know did. Play straight with me."

"I didn't shoot _shit_ ," she drawls the last word on.

"That's impossible, there's nobody for miles. Nobody except…" _Except those Raiders that were chasing us._

Oh shit. Did I scare this kid for nothing? Am I targeting the wrong person?

"Except?" She asks, her voice trailing.

I point the muzzle at the floor, shuffling backward. Those Raiders before… I didn't even thin about them. They could have still been chasing us. _This is wrong… I need to find Mac, I just need to get back to him…_

I knock over the little table by her fridge, knocking a flower pot back. It crashes below on the floor.

"What was that?" she cries, spinning around at the noise. "Hey, that was my _favorite_." I back farther away, keeping the gun on her, but it's a hollow threat; and she knows it.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know… I didn't even want..." I trail. "I, I have to get back to my friend."

I back away, heading into her living room, putting the sidearm down. "I didn't mean to-" I say. My foot catches on something, I stumble backwards, tripping onto the floor. My backpack digging into my skin, my head hits the ground in a satisfying thud.

I prop myself up on my elbows, looking at what tripped me up: Hiding just barely under a ratty old sofa, I see a leather strap hooked under my heel. And it's connected to a sniper rifle, scope and all. I open my mouth, and the words just tumble out: "Holy _fuck_."

In one fluid motion, the teenager bends down, grabbing a shard of broken vase, hurling herself towards me. I roll out of the way, just in time time for her to come crashing next to me. I prop myself up by the elbows, standing up, heading for the door. She grabs ahold of my leg, stabbing a shard of ceramic into my calf.

I scream in pain, buckling down on the ground. She's too fast, or I'm too slow - she knocks the gun out of my hand, the rifle off my shoulder. She tackles me up against the wall, surprisingly strong for her size. Her fingers lock around my throat. She yanks me upright, shoves my head against the wall and brings her face close to mine so I can see how bloodshot her dark eyes are.

"Every-fucking-time," she spits out, like it's all one word. "Every time I set up shop, another one of you _show_ up on _my_ turf and you make it so _difficult_."

Her face swims in and out of focus. _Your turf?_ Then I understand - she's just defending what she thinks is hers. Maybe it's not, but I get what it's like to want to protect something.

I've found MacCready's sniper.

"I didn't know," I gasp, clawing at her hands.

 _Your fault, Nora. You had the chance to kill her and you blew it._

She grimaces, "what? Because that changes anything?"

My rifle lies a couple feet away. I can grab it, but I need her off of me. "There's more than just me," I cough. "They're coming right now."

"You're a dirty little liar," she counters.

My feet brush the tips of the stock of the rifle, feeling weaker and weaker she she chokes the life out of me. _No!_ My mind cries. _You have to fight! If you don't, Mac dies right along with you!_

I do the only thing I can do: I growl _._ A voice, a voice that cannot belong to me, rises from the pit of my stomach, forms in the back of my throat, and screams vengefully at her, like the roar of a lion. It shocks her so much that her hand hold loosens slightly, and that's all the weakness I need from it. In a jarring move, I rip her off of me, pushing her backwards. She shakes it off, lunging back at me only a second later, I dodge, rolling to the floor, grabbing MacCready's rifle.

Suddenly, she's on top of me, wrestling me away. The rifle's a couple feet away, just out of fingertips reach as the girl pins me down, punching my face in. Pain explodes near my jaw, again on my temple, near my eye. My hands fumble between our bodies as I push her off. She rolls to her side, and I reach over for the sniper rifle.

I wrap the cold metal around my fingers, holding the gun at last. I scramble back up, taking her in as I raise the muzzle up. She claws at the floor, beginning to stand up. She makes one last lunge. Her forehead knocks against the muzzle just as I squeeze the trigger.

Then it's so quiet, I swear I can hear the stars scraping against the sky.

* * *

I haul ass, slinging the rifle over my shoulder, running out of the apartment complexes with tears stinging my eyes and grabbing Mr. Bear from my bag, tucked under my arm. I burst out of the building, the cold air feeling colder on my wet cheeks. I brush them off quickly, running across the street into Slocum's.

 _You better be alive, you impulsive son-of-a-bitch._

I run behind the counter, seeing Mac lie right where I left him. He's still sleeping. I check his breathing - irregular, but there. That's what matters.

I check the dressing for fresh bleeding. I gently lift his head and slide his backpack beneath it for a pillow. I take the last syrette of Med-X from my pack and jab it into his forearm. I lean down and kiss his cheek in a chaste-like way. "See, Mac, I came back." Like he can hear me, smoothing his hair back. "I got them. The girl who shot you. I don't know if you'd be proud, but I did it." His forehead is blazing hot behind my hand, despite the chill.

"Okay," I affirm. "Okay. We're gonna make it, okay?" I turn on my Pip-boy, clicking on the map. Hell, Bunker Hill's only a short walk away from here. I look at MacCready, obviously not ready to get up anytime soon.

 _Can't stay,_ I think. _Anybody in a fifty mile radius could've heard that shot._

Stay or go? Either/or?

I crack my knuckles, tucking the sidearm behind my back, slinging the rifle over my shoulder. I sling my backpack over one shoulder, and MacCready's onto the other. Then, lifting him up by the underarms, I haul him out of Slocum's.

One staggering foot backwards, followed by the other. The cut in my calf from her stabbing the broken vase into it bleeds fresh drops into the snow. I take heavy breaths, pulling MacCready out of Cambridge.

I grit my teeth, biting on the side of my cheek. I should use a stimpak for it - but I don't want to waste anything that could be used on Mac. I take a five second break, then I continue pulling him forward in the snow.

I take one more break, checking what street to turn onto to reach Bunker Hill. Turning left, I take the alleyways with MacCready in tow to reach it.

Check right, check left - no Raiders. _Keep moving, keep moving._

I keep having to take breaks; I'm not strong enough to lift all of our belongings, plus Mac at the same time. _Gotta try, gotta try. He took a literal bullet for you. He saved your ass._

Finally, we reach Bunker Hill. I pull him up the steps, trying to not get reminiscent at this time. I try to push a floodgate of memories back as I pull him through the gates. "I need a doctor!" I huff.

It's the middle of the night, but somebody hears me. In a few minutes, a doctor named Kay is helping me drag him into her infirmary. I've got his head, she's got his feet - we lift him up onto a dirty old mattress. I tell her what happened, leaving out the part where I killed the sniper.

"Do you have caps?"

"Caps? _He's dying!_ "

"I don't run a charity case."

I huff in frustration, opening my pack, shoving our whole week's earnings in her face. "There! Caps! Now _fix_ him!"

She pushes me out, telling me to let her work. I wait impatiently for what seems like hours for her to be done.

I wait outside her shop, sitting on the stairs. To distract myself, I take inventory. With Mr. Bear pressed under my chin, I do mindless things: Count ammo, play on the dials of the Pip-boy.

And, out of boredom and curiosity, I open up MacCready's pack. I take out the few comics he's been hoarding. Nothing good: Just Manta Man.

"Damn you, Mac," I mutter under my breath. " _No_ accounting for taste."

I carefully slide the comics back in, right where I left them. I shouldn't continue to look, but there's nothing else to do. I fumble my fingers through his pack, until I get a hand hold on something small. Frowning, I pull it out, looking at it.

It's a little toy soldier. I admire it for a few seconds before putting it back inside. If MacCready likes to play action figures, I'm the last person to judge. I carry around a damn stuffed animal all of the time.

I zip his backpack up just as the doctor, Kay, comes out. "He's stable. He'll be in a hell of a lot of pain for the next few days, but he'll live."

I boost myself up, and without putting much thought into it, wrap my arms around her neck. "Thank you. Thank you so much," I mutter against her shoulder. She awkwardly pats my back and wriggles out of my embrace.

"He can stay here for the night," she tells me, "When he wakes up, there's an inn with some better beds nearby." She says finally.

"Can I stay with him?"

"I don't give a rat's ass," she puts bluntly. "Just don't wake me up again until somebody else is dying."

I nod, "Thank you again."

She leaves me alone, and I enter Mac's room. He's breathing shallowly, but he's alive.

I kneel down next to him, pulling the blankets up to his chin. Then I take out Mr. Bear and stick him right underneath the covers with him. "Don't worry," I say, brushing his hair back for the millionth time. "Mr. Bear keeps you safe. He does for me, anyways."

My hand lingers on his forehead. I wonder, with everything that's happening, what the point is to caring about him the way I do. It seems like a silly, useless thing. And I feel embarrassed about it and alone. And then I titled the idea another way, and the whole thing shifts. _What's the point to anything anymore?_ But I have to stop myself there, because it's not a head space I want to be in right now. As long as I believe in him and I believe in me, I'm not lost.

I sigh, taking out my pack and adjusting it under my head like a pillow. I'm too sad for this. Too shaken up by what's happened tonight to think about it.

 _We don't belong_ , I think. I'm a product of a past world, and he was made for the future. And mentally, I'm _still stuck there_. And I fear I'll never leave.

So, no romance for Nora. Not like she'll ever deserve it. She's a liar, she's a fraud, and she's a murderer.

My problem is I'm just mistaking everything between us for some sort of relationship. But maybe that's wrong too. _Yes, that's wrong. What me and MacCready have isn't a relationship; It's just two people clinging to the same ledge hoping not to fall._

I shift myself away from him, closing my eyes, trying to block it all out.


	12. Bunker Hill

I'm up before him.

I sit up almost immediately, checking to see if he's breathing, When I learn he is, I relax. I rub my eyes, boosting myself up.

I get the doctor again, having her do a quick check up on him. She checks his bandages, telling me she's going to have to dress his wounds again. "He's messed up bad," she tells me, looking over the damage: Shot in his back, barely missing his spine, slightly shaking from a mild fever.

"Sepsis," Kay mutters. She notices me staring dumbly at her and adds, "When the infection gets into your bloodstream. I didn't account for it last night, stopping the bleeding was the main priority."

"Can you fix it?" I ask.

"I'll need antibiotics."

I fork over more caps. She carefully wraps his wounds again, careful to not wake her up but tells me he's lost a lot of blood. "Is he addicted to anything? Chems?"

"No," I say too quickly. "Well, I don't think so. No. He smoke, though. Is that a problem?"

She rubs her eyes, and shrugs. "Maybe he doesn't do that for a while during his recovery."

She leaves me alone with him in the room. _Just me, you, and the shitty mattress._

I lean down, on my knees. He's alive. Fluttery pulse, shallow breath, ashy skin, but against all odds, he's alive.

So now what?

Wait for him to wake up? There's going to come a point where I've got to head for the Glowing Sea, find Virgil. Get back to finding Shaun. Before anything, I'm a mother, and motherhood is always going to be priority number one for me. Maybe I can get him back to Sanctuary, drop him off, make up some lie about heading to Diamond City to visit Piper for a while as he's recovering.

I frown, my heart sinking a little. I know it's the best course of action to do that, but I don't want to be without him. But I could do it. Leave him at Sanctuary, pick him up on my way back, assuming I make it back. Better for him, better for me.

I hate it. I hate that it's what I'm going to do, but Shaun is the _raison d'être._ My reason for being.

The thing worth dying for. No, stronger than that; The thing worth _killing_ for.

My place is with Shaun; it's always been with Shaun. Shaun is my _raison d'être._ Not some sad wasteland father. Not even the Minutemen cause. It's Shaun. That's it.

When he wakes up, I've got to make sure he's taken care of. He said something before about Bunker Hill now being a trading center. Great place to start for supplies, and at the very least - breakfast.

I set his stuff over his the corner of the room, then I tug his blankets tighter around him so he's warm. "Don't go anywhere, I'll be back soon." I'm practically saying it to myself.

Stepping out of the clinic, and back outside, colder than it was yesterday. Shivering, I zip up my coat, tugging the sleeves down enough to cover my Pip-boy, flipping my hood up.

I walk into the trading hub, fingers clasped tight around the straps of my backpack. There's a crowd of people hogging the entrance inside, all of them strangely relaxed. Not of the habitual alertness to danger. It's almost like walking on the streets pre-war. Nobody even pays me any mind as I slip through them into Bunker Hill's flea market.

It's way different. Where there used to be guards and memorial pieces, it's now nothing but feral people of every description. Ragged, costumed, armoured, dreadlocked, armed, unarmed, gesturing, clamoring, buying, selling. The dull roar of chatter echoes all over me. I can feel it on my skin.

What looks at first like chaos resolves itself once you notice the marquees, tables, and cubicles, everything from reproduction Moroccan tents to salvaged trade-show booths, are arranged in a rough horseshoe shape around the building next to the monument. Signs advertise all kinds of goods. Ammunition, medicine, tools, water, canned food, clothes, cosmetics, pre-war junk. Everything swirls around the market, but there are substorms of activity going on. Caravanners getting high, traders eating, sounds of talking and laughing.

It's almost familiar. The feeling of people chattering, talking, not out for blood. It's almost depressing to know what it's all mimicking.

"You gonna buy something?"

I turn around. The voice belongs to a lanky, tall, smelly kid dressed in black, who can't be older than twenty.

"Um," I pause, looking at his table filled with knick-knacks. "What've you got?"

He squints his shifty looking eyes, taking me all in. "You're new, aren't you?"

"What? No," I say.

"Really?" Says the guy. "Because you look like you have no idea what's going on."

"Who asked you?" I say, stepping towards his stand. After the night I just had, I've got no patience.

The guy shrugs, like he doesn't care all that much anymore. "Just asking is all."

I frown, putting my gaze back on his table. Lots of junk, mostly. But something catches my eye in all of it. I walk up to his table, picking out a purplish green toy. I hold it out, looking at it. "Is this a toy alien?" I ask, in a hushed voice, an idea warming itself in my mind.

"Yeah? You want that?" He asks, surprise in his voice. "I'll sell it to you for eight caps."

"How about five?" I offer.

He huffs, "fine."

I slide over five and carefully place the toy in my backpack. I've still got a few hundred caps left from mercenary work with MacCready, despite how much I gave that doctor to fix him up. And there's so much here, I almost feel morally allowed to buy some silly crap just for the hell of it. Which is good for me, because there's a whole row of stalls devoted to things that won't do anything worthwhile: Toys, all sorts of jewelry, dead watches, makeup.

I walk around the horseshoe, eyeing the different stalls and caravans I can buy from. Until I stop in front of this one stand, jaw agape.

I step forward, grinning like I'm a kid in a candy store, because I know exactly what I want.

Kneeling down, I examine it in it's case: In front of me, laminated in fresh cellophane, perfectly preserved, like the war didn't even touch it: _GROGNAK THE BARBARIAN: Issue 24!_

"You've got to be shitting me," I mutter under my breath, covering my mouth with a hand. I boost myself up, making eye contact with the head trader. "How much?"

He looks lazily down at the display case. "That's mint condition. What have you got that's worth mint condition?"

"A hundred caps," I offer.

He tilts his head, "One fifty."

"Done."

I spend a few more minutes at the trader before bouncing back to MacCready's hospital room, my backpack filled with all sorts of goodies.

When I get back, he's still asleep. Not a big deal, he's been doing it all morning. I plop down right next to his mattress and replace Mr. Bear with that toy alien I bought. I grab Mr. Bear and pull it into my lap.

"Can you hear me?" I ask - MacCready, not the bear.

Silence.

"Mac?" I say softly. I brush the tawny strands of hair back from his forehead. "Can you wake up for me?" No answer. "Please?" I ask, my voice a little louder this time.

His lips moved and a grunt leaks out slowly, like air escaping from a tire.

I gasp, setting Mr. Bear down. "Holy _shit_. Shit, shit, shit. You're awake!"

He grunts, lifting his eyes open. "Clarke? What's..."

I laugh, but there are tears running down my cheeks. "I'm just… I was so afraid you'd-" I clasp my hand over mouth because I'm starting to make those awful choking sounds that happen when I sob.

He blinks, taking in the room. He looks back at me, "You okay?" He asks, his voice is raspy.

I nod my head but the sounds aren't stopping.

"Whoa, okay. It's fine," he groans. "If anyone should be crying here, it's _me_. Hurts like hell."

"I know, I'm sorry-" I get it out, but I'm cut off by an even more hysterical round of sobbing that just confirms I'm not okay.

I expect to see a smug or sarcastic expression on his face: _Aw, you do care_ , I half expect him to say. But his look his strangely quizzical: _Why do you care?_

I sniff, wiping the back of my hand on my cheek. I reach over and give him a can of purified water. "Doctor said you'd be thirsty when you woke up," I explain, waiting for him to take it.

He does, greedily drinking it all while I pull myself together. In all of a few hours, I've seen visions of my dead husband, been chased by Raiders, watched MacCready get shot, and I've killed someone at close range.

"How do you feel?" I ask, knowing the answer will be brutal.

He lifts a hand to the middle of his chest, rubbing his shoulder. "I don't know. It's like my chest _owns_ me. I can't think about anything else. I just want to yank all the bandages off and… Crap. I don't know, Clarke."

He lifts a hand to his eyes, rubbing them. "What happened?" He asks, trying to prop himself up on his elbows. He grunts in frustration and pain, settling back down again.

"Shh," I say. "Don't move, just try to relax. We made it to Bunker Hill, I got you a doctor, everything's gonna be fine."

He shakes his head as best as he can lying down. "I got shot," his voice echoes, waiting for an explanation.

"You did."

He looks me up and down, his eyes widening. "And?"

"And what?" I almost whimper. "I got you here, that's what matters, right?"

" _Clarke_ ," he presses. "You're stalling. You're going to make me say the 'f' word. You really are."

"I thought that was against your moral code?"

"I swear I'm _going_ to."

I chuckle slightly, despite his look he gives me. Then it's quiet again. "I just took you out the back door of Slocum's and dragged you to Bunker Hill. That's it."

He raises an eyebrow, "Then who shot me?"

"I don't know," I lie. "Honestly, it was so weird. But I didn't care, I just hauled you out, dragged you up by your underarms and brought you here," I rattle on. Adding detail, nuance to how I got him there, how I heard wolves in the streets, how he muttered nonsense while I dragged him out. I surprise myself by how effortless the bullshit flows out. I don't why I couldn't just tell him the truth, he might have even understood, but the thing is - I can't even admit to myself I murdered that girl. So how could I admit it to him? "And that brings us to now," I finish.

He nods slowly, absorbing everything I told him. He looks down at what's wrapped up next to him. "What's this?" He picks up the toy.

I shake myself out of the funk, almost laughing. "Oh. I went to the market. I, um, remembered you were telling me about that toy alien your son has. I just thought… I don't know. I thought you'd like it."

He blinks at it, shifting his gaze to me. He holds it up to his eye level, staring at it. "Thank you," he murmurs.

We sit in a weird type of silence as he stares at the toy, running his fingers over it. "Oh, that reminds me," I say, reaching into my backpack. "You're gonna be really happy with me."

He laughs slightly, "How many presents do you got for me in that bag anyways?"

"This is the last one, I swear," I chuckle. I pull out the new comic out of my bag. "Tad-da!" I exclaim.

His mouth drops, his eyes are huge. I burst into laughter, handing it to him. He holds it delicately in his hands, like he's looking at a holy bible. "This isn't real."

I shrug, "I found a good vendor."

"Yeah, no shit!" He laughs, "I don't think I've even _read_ this!"

"I did good?" I grin.

He looks me straight in the eyes, grinning wildly. "Yes. Holy fu… frick. This is so awesome, Clarke." He flips through the first page, lovingly examining the papers. "I should take bullets for you more often."

I don't laugh along with him anymore. "Not funny, Mac. Don't joke about that."

He brushes me off, setting the comic down. "Okay. Sorry. Subject change. So you saw the market," he says. "You ever been to Bunker Hill?"

"Long time ago," I nod, not letting on more than that. "And yeah. I saw the market. It was impressive."

His lips curled into a smile. "Did you people watch?"

I smile back, "Yeah. I did. Not the same without you, though."

He weaves his fingers together, placing them behind his head. "Tell me what you came up with."

I laugh, "There was this lanky little teenager in charge of a pre-war junk stand, who was such a little know-it-all. He said that. . ." I go on for him. Making up weird stories for him just to see him laugh. It's so nice after seeing the complete opposite. We go back and forth, he makes good additions to the stories. Before we know it, we're just there in that shitty looking clinic laughing our asses off.

I like hearing him laugh. It makes things seem normal.

A part of me thinks things will never be normal again.

Eventually, I have to go get his doctor again to check if she's done with his antibiotics so we get out of here. Kay, his doctor tells me to let her work in peace, so I can't stay in the clinic while she's cleaning him up. Once she's done, she tells me he's going to have to rest for a few hours to heal easily.

To pass time, I head to the only bar in Bunker Hill and get dinner while the doctor is working on MacCready. I sit at the bar, ignoring passerby's as I try to beat levels on _Red Menace_ , this video game I picked up at the market.

* * *

A few hours go by, and eventually, after beating the game twice, I give up on it, buy some food for MacCready and trot back to the clinic again.

I tip-toe up the stairs, quietly opening the door inside, popping my head inside. I expect MacCready to be asleep by now, but he's not. He's even sitting up, cross legged, staring at the toy alien.

"Hey," I say, stepping inside. "I was hoping you'd be awake. I brought you some dinner. It's just Cram, and I know you aren't that big of a fan, but…" I stop, closing the door behind us. He's not looking at me, he's just staring at his toy alien. "Hey. You okay?"

He opens his mouth. "He should be four next month, you know." His voice was as flat and thin as a piece of aluminum foil, fresh from the roller.

My lips part, expecting I'll say something good, but I'm just quiet.

"I haven't written to him for five months." He looks at me, then looks away. "What kind of dad _does_ that?"

His shoulders begin to shake. At first, I think it must be the fever, or maybe the cold, but I know it was something else. So I plop down right next to him.

At least pre-war, for guys, breaking down was a private thing. Never let them see you cry, means you're weak, means you're soft, a baby, a wuss. ' _Not very manly_ ' or some shit like that. I remember that Nate was like that - at least after his time in China. Didn't show emotion, didn't show how _broken_ he was. I think it did a very terrible toll on him. I think, in the end, that's what really broke him - that he couldn't admit it to _me_ , and definitely not to himself.

That's how I know that MacCready is _not okay_. I see the similarities in him and in Nate; I know what it means to cry in front of someone. I respect him enough to give me his space on the mattress, being a space apart.

He wiped the back of his hand against one cheek, than the other cheek. "Sorry."

"Don't be," I say softly. Then I add with a faint chuckle, "You've seen me cry. Feels like the scales should be balanced, you know?"

He didn't say anything for a couple thousand years. "Clarke, I have to tell you something."

My heart stills in my chest, "what?"

"It's just… You've just been so honest with me. About you, about your life. I figured… You should know this much about me," he stalls.

I shove back a wave of guilt back, my stomach twists. "Oh, Mac… You don't owe me-"

"No." He says firmly, "I just… I want you to know."

I nod. "...Okay."

He takes a deep breath. "My son… He's sick. I don't know what's wrong with him. One day he's playing out in the fields behind our farm… The next he took a fever and these blue boils popped up all over his body."

I look at him, but he's not meeting my gaze. I want to hold him, comfort him, _do something_ , but I wait until he's done. "I don't know how much longer he's going to last," his voice breaks, and he lifts a hand to cover his face.

Before I knew what was happening or even how it happened, I was holding him. I stroke his hair. I rubbed his arched back, avoiding his wound. I pressed his face into my neck, and his tears were warm against my skin. He whispered something that sounded like _I miss him._

"I'm sorry, Mac." I whisper. "I'm so sorry. No parent should ever experience-" My voice caught in my throat, and I can't speak anymore. Then, after several minutes pass, "I'm going to help you however I can. I promise."

He whispers a gentle thank you. I wonder if he's asked people to help him with this before. I wonder if he's ever shared this with anyone and he's been holding in such a burden like this for forever. I completely understand; and I want him to know.

"Mac," I start. "I know what it's like to be separated from your child," I lower my voice so it's harder to hear how my voice is breaking. "I know what it's like to think about them every time you make a decision, and how they never really leave your mind, not really. And how every time you enter combat, you think if the last time you saw them will actually be the very last time you saw them. I guess what I'm saying is, I know what it's like to be a parent. And I know the heartbreak that comes along with it. I will help you if I can."

I bow my head; he raises his. I kiss his wet cheek. I didn't mean for it to be romantic, I never wanted anything else than just to comfort him. Or maybe I did, but it wasn't right in that moment to think about anything else; This was simply a parent helping another parent.

He's quiet for a bit, we both are. I rock him back and forth in my arms, rubbing his back, my cheek resting on the top of his head. Our legs are intertwined as we sit on the edge of the mattress together.

Several peaceful minutes pass by in silence, then, MacCready sits up and rubs his eyes. "What you're doing for me, nobody's ever cared enough to do," his voice is soft and quiet. "Even if it takes the rest of my life, I'll repay this debt to you."

I sigh, "Oh, MacCready." I say. "You never owed me a thing."


	13. Happy Times

Late afternoon. The weather is cool despite the snowfall last night and there's no wind, making it a relatively warm day. I'm counting 10mm bullets under my breath while sitting at Bunker Hill's only bar.

"Hey," a voice says behind me. Turning, I smile. It's Mac, walking and everything.

"Hey," I respond. "You're looking better."

"Feeling better," he smiles, sitting down. "Starting to think all those expensive meds you paid for aren't a total waste of money." He's nursing his side, rubbing it gingerly.

I blow a raspberry. "Yeah, _hopefully_ not," I joke.

He chuckles too, drumming his hands on the bar. He looks at me, his expression changing. "So. Hey. What we were talking about a few nights ago…"

I purse my lips together, nodding. A few nights ago, he told me more about him. About these blue boils popping up all over his body, about how he found some place that could give him a cure, about this man named Sinclair how had the passwords to get us inside. "I haven't forgotten about Duncan, Mac. Don't worry."

"I know you haven't," he says. "I just… I just feel antsy about the whole thing. I just want to get it done as soon as possible."

"And we will," I assure him. I pause, looking him up and down. "How are you feeling?"

"Good," he jumps at the word. "Good enough for Med-tek, if that's what you meant-"

I hold up my hands in defense, "Whoa, okay," I laugh at his readiness. "We can go out in a while if you're absolutely sure you're feeling alright. I need to load up on some more ammo, but…"

He jumps up from his seat, "I feel alright," he promises. "How soon can we leave?"

"Maybe in an hour," I say. "Just to pick up some supplies, but we could leave soon-"

He smiles - really smiles. "I'm gonna go get my stuff, I'll wait for you by the gates."

He's gone before I can stop him, half jogging towards the clinic. I'm laughing at him, shaking my head, and standing up to buy some stuff from the hub before we go.

* * *

It feels good, almost natural to be on the road again. Shoulder to shoulder, we walk down the steps of Bunker Hill, back into the commonwealth. I click the safety on my 10mm, holding it with two hands as I navigate to Med-Tek.

We go up Main, into the streets with snow so fresh, if you squint it's almost hard to notice the trash piling up on the sides of buildings, the shattered windows, the overturned cars and downed power lines. We probably should've swung around this hellscape, used the backroads and open country; especially after the sniper just a while ago. But for MacCready, getting to Med-Tek isn't a matter of just _getting_ there, it's a matter of getting there _now_. And this is the shortest route. I shiver, pulling my coat's hood up. "You sure about this buddy of yours? His name's Sinclair, right? How sure are we that these codes work?"

"It can't be a coincidence, Clarke-" his voice raises, but he slows down when he sees the look on my face. "It just can't be, okay? I can feel it."

"And I get it," I follow up. "I do. I just… I need to make sure you're one-hundred-percent on this."

"I _am_ ," he promises. "Let's go."

 _Quick and quiet,_ I'm thinking as we trot down the sidewalk, our eyes cutting left and right and back again. We're both very on edge from what happened last time we walked these streets. _Quick and quiet._

I'm using my Pip-boy to navigate, weaving us through the streets and through Cambridge. Suddenly, MacCready says, "Robert."

"What?" I'm only half listening, looking at my Pip-boy.

"My name is Robert," he says. That catches my attention. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it, that you don't know it but you're still doing all of these things for me. My name is Robert." He pauses, waiting expectantly for something.

I blink, after a beat. "You already know my name."

"That's not," he sighs. "Sorry, I thought you were going to make a joke about it or something."

"Oh," I say dumbly. "Nice name. I like it. Robert."

"Yep," he says, keeping his eyes on the road. "Robert Joseph MacCready."

I grin, "You have a nickname?"

"I like RJ," he says.

"Okay," I say. " _RJ_. I like that. I like that a lot more than MacCready. It suits you." He grins sheepishly.

We continue forward for a few minutes in silence. Until he says, "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Well, are you going to tell me your full name?"

"Oh," I say blankly. "It's Elenora Marilyn Clarke." I pause for a beat. "Elenora Marilyn _Able_ Clarke. Able's my maiden name." I frown, "Wow, I have a mouthful name, too."

MacCready gives me a cheeky grin, "Sucks, right?"

I push his shoulder, "shut up," I laugh.

When we reach the research facility, I'm on the point. MacCready follows behind, sniper rifle in hand, muzzle up, safety off, covering my back.

We weave through Med-Tek's parking lot, through stalled cars that seem to pop through a white curtain covered in week's worth of snow. Some have their windows smashed, decorated with graffiti, looted for anything valuable.

I'm the first one to get to the door, I hold it open for him as he heads inside, scans the floor and urges me in when it's clear.

I close the door behind us, and immediately the raunch stench of the building hits my nose. Mildew from the melting snow, the stink of something rotting, which from a guess is probably the ferals. We hide behind the receptionist's desk as MacCready counts ammo.

"Got enough?" I whisper.

He pushes a few bullets inside his gun, "hopefully. You?"

In response, I shake the pocket to my coat, filled with 10mm bullets. "I'm good, let's-"

We hear a low growl far off. MacCready shoots me a look, _ferals._ I click my safety off and watch RJ as he peeks up from the desk and looks through his scope.

"What do you see?" I whisper.

"Two of them, three o'clock."

"Take the shot."

MacCready's bullets smash into the feral's heads. _Onetwo_. He jumps to his feet, "Okay, let's go."

Up the stairwell, we don't find any more ferals near the stairs, but there's two on the hallway down where the terminal should be. We take them out.

Upon entering the room where the terminal is, MacCready swiftly walks over, typing away. "This password better work… Or we're screwed." His face scrunches up, worry written all over him. He chews on his lip as he types in the digits, breathing out in relief as the terminal lets out a noise that alerts him doing the right thing. "Thank god that worked," he sighs. I release a breath I didn't know I was holding either.

"Is it telling you where the cure is?" I ask, poking my head through the next doorway, checking if the coast is clear. It is.

Mac nods, "Sub-level. That's where it should be. Let's go now."

"Got it," I say. We move out together, walking shoulder to shoulder down the next hallway.

We work as a team, taking out ferals and having each other's backs as we go further into the research facility. We use stimpaks like mad, we use the ammo more so.

Eventually, I can spot the elevator that will take us down to Sub-level. I nod RJ over to it, and we step inside. I press another button, and the doors seal us shut, and we descend.

MacCready's fidgeting like mad, tapping his foot, drumming his fingers on his gun. Despite the cold, a trail of sweat runs down his brow.

"Hey," I say softly. "You doing okay?"

"I'm fine."

I frown. "You're a bad liar."

He grunts, shaking his head, rolling his eyes. "Fine," he grumbles. Pausing, "Are you okay?"

I nod my head, "yeah, of course," I say nonchalantly.

He looks at me, "you're a worse one."

I shrug flippantly, curving the tips of my mouth into a smile. _Better than you think, Mac._ "We'll be okay," I tell him. When he doesn't answer, I say: "We _will_ _._ "

He's shaking his head. "I know. I just… God. Let's just get this over with-"

The elevator door dings, popping open. I nudge him, putting my muzzle up. I take point, stepping into the old lab. As soon as I step inside, my stomach lurches and my eyes water. I pull my shirt collar up to my nose, gagging. " _Ugh_. Do you smell that?"

MacCready coughs as he steps out, "Not many people sticking around here to clean it up. I think we're the first ones down here in a long, long time."

"Yeah, no shit." I breath in and out through the shirt's cotton. "Smells like-"

"-I _know_. Let's just get the cure. Sooner we do, the sooner we can get out of here."

"Good plan."

He takes lead, going down the hallway. It's dead silent. RJ walks on the balls of his feet, peering around corners. "Do you hear anything?" He whispers.

I shake my head, "No-"

Suddenly, low and growling and emerging from the darkness of the corner, a feral bursts away from hiding, lunging itself at MacCready. He jolts, reacting he hits it with the butt of his rifle. Impulsively, I raise the pistol to the level of the feral's eyes, squeezing the trigger. The sound gives a loud _pop!_ and echoes off the walls, shattering any sense of calm we might have had before. He shivers, eyes wide. "Thanks," he breathes.

"Don't mention it," I say casually. Like I didn't just perform a close-range headshot and like it definitely wasn't my first time. I almost want to give a fingernail buff, toss my hair behind my head. _Just a regular Tuesday_.

MacCready wipes the sweat off his brow, and clicks a magazine off his rifle. He shakes the cartridge, "crap," he says.

"What's up?"

He turns around, "how much ammo do you have left?"

I frown, popping my own magazine out, examining the case. "Holy shit," I say. "Not a lot." I unzip my backpack, shifting through my back to look for stimpaks; Only two left. I look up at him, trying to read whatever he's thinking. "We might have to call it for the day," I hesitate.

MacCready shakes his head, "No. No, of course we don't. We could just... be more careful with our ammo. I bet the cure's not even that far off…" He trails, staring down the dark hallway.

I shake my head, "I don't like that," I tell him. "We got this far, it'll be easier to do this again tomorrow," I click on my Pip-boy. "It's getting late. How long do you think we've been here?"

"It doesn't matter," MacCready says. "We aren't going anywhere." Then he adds, because he feels the need to: "I ran one time," he says. "I'm not running again."

"Goddamnit, RJ," I hiss. "This isn't a _'best-dad'_ contest. This is your life. We go back. We can't fight today but we can fight again tomorrow or the next day-"

"I made a promise!" He interrupts, face full of rage and sadness and the truly understandable disappointment that life gave him. "I promised I'd save him. I _promised_."

And there it is: that nail on the head I understand all too well. From experience the words seem to be a slap in the face and a revelation all at once. The promises you make to the one you love, because, how could you give them less?

Because promises matter. They matter now more than ever.

My voice goes up an octave. "I know that."

His voice goes down one. "Then you should understand. We could just-"

"RJ," my voice is shaking. "We don't have the resources. We've got a very low supply of ammo, and we just ran out of stimpaks."

"We could make it work-"

"And we will make it work," I urge. "And we make it work _tomorrow_ ," I flick my Pip-boy on, checking the map. The light of the Pip-boy makes an eerie greenish glow, illuminating the room, our faces. "Goodneighbor is nearby. We can restock there, Daisy can help us with ammo."

He takes off his cap, runs a hand through his hair. "This feels like we're running."

"We are," I say, matter-of-factly. "But we aren't abandoning it."

He looks at me, eyes shining green in the glow of the Pip-boy. He weighs his options, but there's not much to choose from. Hesitating, he says quietly, "Fine."

We go back to the elevator, ride it all the way back up to the top, exit through the front doors. And we're on the road to Goodneighbor without another word.

* * *

We don't speak as we reach the gates to Goodneighbor. We don't speak as I trade with Daisy, buying ammo, water, stimpaks. We don't speak as MacCready pays for the hotel room. And we don't speak as he unlocks the door to the room and we usher inside. Then, once we're inside, I tell him. "You should take the shower first." He hesitates, probably just wants to fall asleep immediately, but he nods, and solemnly heads to the bathroom, not saying another word.

Meanwhile, I fall onto the bed in an exhausted heap, somewhere between falling asleep and staying awake. After a few minutes, I flop on my side and check the time on my Pip-boy, groaning when I see how late it is. As I do, I hear the water from the bathroom turn off. I sigh, rubbing my eyes, shifting upwards to grab some clean clothes from my backpack.

MacCready steps out of the bathroom, rubbing his wet hair with a towel. I look away, ducking my head so he can't see me blushing. But his mind is far from it, his mind's not here. He tosses me the towel, and I catch it mid-air, shuffling into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

I peel my clothes off, and hop under the showerhead, turning the faucet. Water streams out cold, no boiler working to heat it, no filtration system to clean it. But after the day we've had, I could care less. I stare at the drain, looking at the dirt and blood from my skin. I cover my face in my hands, take a deep breath and wash as icy sheets of water pour on me.

The towel is limp and rough, but it's better than nothing. I barely have the energy to wipe myself dry. I wriggle into my fresh pair of clothes and pat my hair until it's only a little damp.

I emerge from the bathroom, lips blue, teeth chattering. On the other side of the room, I'm surprised to find MacCready's still awake. He's sitting on the frame of the bed, back hunched, elbows on his knees, staring at that little soldier I found in his backpack a few days ago. "What's that in your hands?" I ask, like I don't know the answer.

"A toy." His voice hollow.

I bite my lip, setting the towel and my clothes down on a nearby chair. He doesn't look up, just stares at the little soldier. His eyes are puffy, like he's been crying recently. No trace of tears thought from what I could tell. He looks up, noticing that I'm staring, but he doesn't care. Just looks back at the toy, sadness written all across his face.

It feels wrong, seeing him like this. I hate it, I hate seeing him so disappointed, so utterly depressed. I shift back and forth on my heels. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I take a step forward hesitantly, then another one.

I walk right up to the bed's nightstand, shifting my eyes to the radio playing right next to the bed. Without putting much thought into it, I turn the dial, turning the music up. I bite my lip and take a deep breathe. I pivot my feet so I'm standing right in front of MacCready. He doesn't notice. I hold my hand out, right in front of the toy, obscuring it from his view.

He looks up, eyebrows furrowed in surprise. "What are you doing-"

I say it quietly enough so he can't hear that I'm nervous. "C'mon."

It clicks for him, his eyebrows turn up. "I don't… I'm no good at dancing, Clarke."

I shake my head, and take the toy from him, setting it gently on the table. Without his go-ahead, I take his hand. "If I can shoot, you can dance."

He sighs, staring at my hands wrapped around his. He gives me one solid gentle nod. "Okay," he whispers.

He took the offer. I have to hold back a smile from the victory. I pull him up from the bed just as the chorus begins.

 _Wish on the moon and look for the gold in a rainbow… And you'll find happy times._

His hands in mine, I take a few steps backwards into the middle of the room, leading him with me. He looks at me, wondering what I'm going to do. Eyes never leaving his, I sway with the music, swinging his arms forward and back with mine, biting my lip to hide a growing smile.

He's nervous, he's sad, he's holding back. Half-heartedly, he begins to sway with me, tugging my arms back and forth with me, sighing lightly, the corners of his lips tug into a fake smile; I can do better.

I lift one of my arms up over his head and spin him. When he comes back around, he smiles weakly at me; His smile is a bit lopsided and his eyes are sad and contemplative at the same time. His hand falls on my waist, mine goes instinctively to his shoulder.

We sway in time with the music, turning and keeping our eyes focused on each other. I chuckle slightly at it all, our situation, how dancing could even help the day we've had. I decide to not focus on it. I just want to focus on him.

I find myself humming. Singing along, singing to him, and he loves it. He smiles bigger, eyes crinkling as he loosen his hold on me and spins me around, and I giggle in delight. When I come back around, facing him, I put my hand on his shoulder, but it slips up to his nape until my arm is completely hooked around him. He comes closer, his hand on my waist, my back.

 _Though things may look very dark, your dream is not in vain-_

We find the rhythm and ride it. He transforms into someone carefree - which he needs - and I transform into someone whose only care is him, which I want.

"This song is nice," he says softly.

I relax once he says that, digging my nose once his shoulder, my arm wrapped around him like it's a hug. Closing my eyes. "Yeah," I murmur. "Really nice."

We sway as one, I bring my face out of his shoulder, looking at him. I smile nervously at him, he grins right back. He takes the lead. The dance is goofy. The dance is silly. The dance is sacred. He spins me out, I twirl away from him, and come right back, falling back into his arms, bursting into laughter. He laughs right along with me, until our laughter is louder than the music.

I drape my arms around his neck, laying my cheek on his shoulder, his arms wrapped tight around me. We're hardly dancing anymore, just swaying side to side. I close my eyes and try to bottle the happy feeling.

 _So wish on the moon, and someday it may be tomorrow - you will suddenly hear chimes. And you'll have your happy, happy time._

The song pitters out, and the swaying slows down until we're at a complete stop. Yet we haven't left the position. I open my eyes, knowing the moment's gone, and reality slowly begins to leak back in. I pull back, the smile is already fading from MacCready's face. I look at him, my gaze flicking between his eyes and his lips. Suddenly, it's the mood shifts. I want to close the gap, I feel drawn to him, like he's a magnet. And he feels it too, as his head ducks lower, closer, closer…

Something inside me snaps. I blink, retracting backwards. My hands fall from around his neck on his chest, patting them. And I push him away. Gently. "We better get some rest if we're heading back to Med-tek tomorrow."

He frowns, his eyebrows pinching closer together, he opens his mouth to say something but immediately clamps it shut. He takes his arms away from my waist and they fall limp at his sides. He nods solemnly, but he can't meet my eyes anymore. He chuckles too, airy and almost a huff. He stares at our feet. "Thanks," he murmurs.

I feel my stomach twist in guilt and my own stupidity. "Don't mention it," I say, looking down, twisting my wedding ring on my finger.

He notices the jewelry, eyeing the glint of metal in the soft light of the hotel room. He rubs his neck, backing away."I'll take couch," he says. Not like it's a matter up for debate, because it's a solid decision. He steps to the side and walks past me, leaving me in the middle of the room.

I spin around, my heart feels like it's sinking. "RJ?" My voice is caught in my throat.

"Yeah?" He says, maybe too quickly, a little too hopeful.

I pause, Once again, here I go, starting something I don't know how to finish. This should be a speech weeks in the making. I'm at a lost for words. "Good night."

He frowns slightly - his brows furrow downwards. "'Night, Clarke."

There's more to be said, but I don't know what it is yet.

Biting my lip, I turn around and move towards the bed. Without another word, I click the radio off, climb under the covers to the bed, and curl up, my back towards MacCready. Despite it all, I can't help thinking of Nate. And I hate myself for it.

 _You're newly widowed,_ I tell myself. _It's only been a few months. Don't you know how to mourn? Have you no respect for the dead?_

I pull the covers over my shoulders, over my head. _Stop treating MacCready like he's some… Rebound. He doesn't deserve that._

Despite the fatigue I was feeling only a few minutes ago, I know sleep won't come easy tonight.

 _Oh, you're such a hopeless case, Elenora. Such a train wreck._


	14. Keeping Promises

The way to Med-Tek is awkward, but it becomes less so once we're out of Goodneighbor.

Once we're back inside the abandoned lab, the stench of rotting ferals and the age of the building hits my nose immediately and makes my eyes water. While we're riding the elevator down, we're counting our ammo, we're double checking our number of stimpaks. Until the moans of the ferals can be heard through the walls, that's when the counting stops, and my praying begins.

My palms are slick with sweat, and I hope to God my rifle doesn't slip out of my hands in the heat of battle, I look over to MacCready, half-expecting to see him in panic, but he's not; He looks determined and he looks angry. It's a good look on him.

The elevator dings open, the doors slide open. I nod at MacCready and walk out first, him covering my rear. We've done the routine so many times; Me in front, him behind that there's no words that need to be said to get it done anymore. We read our body language and go for it. Taking down ferals, moving past hallways, down flights of stairs, emptying ammo into the ferals.

And us playing off each other works. We move past another level. In one room, there's a single feral wandering. I aim my rifle's muffle, stare for a moment in the crosshairs, and squeeze the trigger, getting in a headshot. My first far-ranged headshot. I look over my shoulder to MacCready, beaming with pride. "Did you _see_ that?"

He gives me a high five. "Nice one, partner."

I smile, looking ahead at the hallway. "How far is the cure from here?"

"We have to make it through a couple more rooms and then down a floor," he says.

"Okay," I say, wiping feral's blood off my forehead, resisting the urge to wipe it on him. "Okay. Let's go."

The other rooms are filled with considerably less ghouls. MacCready and I take them out easily and without any injuries, until we've made it to the basement of the building, a door with a terminal locking it ahead.

"Hey," I wave him over. "There's a locked door here. Is this where the cure is?"

He walks past me, "should be." He pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket. "Let's hope this works."

He plugs in the code and lets out a breath when the door clicks open. _Let's get this darn cure._

We enter the room, I'm clutching the rifle as hard as I can, terrified it's going to slip out of my hands. It's completely silence, besides the clicking sound coming from my wrist. I look down, examining my geiger counter; It's going crazy. I frown, "RJ, come look at this." He doesn't respond. I look up, "RJ?"

He's on the other side of the counter. Impatient. He's searching wildly, "We're looking for something kept in a syringe…"

He notices the Glowing One before I do. It lunges for him as soon as he starts shooting it with bullets, but it's not stopping it. MacCready is tackled to the ground, I'm about the take a shot to kill the damn thing, but I'm not a pro; I could hit MacCready accidently.

Acting fast, I rush over, and instead of shooting it, I hit it in the head with the butt of my rifle, swinging it like a baseball bat. The Glowing One flails off of him, scrambling a few feet away, I take point, lining up it's body in the cross hairs and pumping it full of lead until it's a glowing pulp of what it used to be.

I lean over, hands pressed on my knees, gasping for breath. I wipe my forehead. "Holy shit," I heave. "That was intense." I look over to MacCready, and offer him a hand, pulling him up.

"Thanks," he gasps. He rubs his head, "For a second I thought…" He groans, "I'm glad that's over."

I'm nodding, half listening, looking out for a syringe. I step over to the side of the lab, dimly litted. Suddenly, I gasp. Sitting at the edge of the counter, the one vial thankfully untouched by all of the chaos going on around it.

MacCready notices, halfway across the room from me now from where I've walked. "Do you see it?"

In response, I hold the cure up triumphantly.

He clasped a hand around his mouth, a faint gasp leaking out. He takes a step towards me. Then another, and then he's running. "We did it! Holy crap we actually did it!" He laughs, and holds his arms out, grabbing me by my waist, lifts me up and actually twirls me. I giggle, my hands on his shoulders, spinning. When I come back down, he wraps his arms tightly around me and kisses me hard on the mouth.

A burst of excitement flows through me. My heart soars. Warmth travels through me; From my heart all the way down to my toes. It's shocking, it's new, it's weird. It's the best thing that's happened to me in the Wasteland.

He breaks the kiss off slowly, eyes looking worried when he sees that I'm just staring at him. I must look like I'm in awe; I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. I open my mouth to say something, but I'm speechless.

His eyebrows raise, his face goes pink. He takes his hands off me, holding them up between us. "Sorry -" he steps backwards.

I shake my head, grabbing his wrist. I laugh in shock, "Don't apologize, RJ." I grab his face in both hands and start giving him kisses, giggling between each one. MacCready, so pleased with the affection, takes every kiss and laughs along with me. I'm holding him tight, making no excuses for it.

We break away after a few moments. "Thank you," he murmurs. "Because of you, Duncan's got a fighting chance to live. I don't even know how I'm going to begin to repay you for this. I owe you. Big time."

We're nose to nose now. "You would do the same for me, I'm sure," I chuckle. _Would you, MacCready? Would you risk your life for my son, too? How far would you go?_

"'Course I would." There's no hesitation in his voice. "This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

I bite my lip. I don't want to ruin the moment, but I want to know. My forehead pressed against his, I shut my eyes tight. My voice sounds weak and tight as the words dribble out: "Would you go to the Glowing Sea?"

He laughs, opening his eyes, leaning back and looking at me. "Yeah. Sure, Clarke. I'd go to the Glowing Sea and back," Rolling his eyes, leaning down for another kiss. It's not a reality for him yet; it hasn't set in. And so badly, I wish I could laugh right along with him: _I was kidding. Of course we're not doing that_. I bite my lip, pushing him away, the feeling of dread rising in the pit my stomach.

He can feel the push, eyes opening again. The smile already beginning to leave his face, "You were kidding right?" He chuckles slightly at the end. Maybe he's hoping I'll laugh with him.

I don't. I take a deep breathe, my hands rising from his waist to his chest. Shakily, I say it, but not proudly. "RJ, I have to tell you something."

His face is serious now, he searches my face for answers. "What's wrong? Did I-"

" _No_ ," I say. I bring my hands to his face, stroking it lovingly, I smile weakly, "No, it's not you. It's, um, it's _me_ -" My voice gets caught in my throat. Tears sting my eyes. "I'm sorry. This is supposed to be a good moment. We have Duncan's _cure_ and I have _you_ …"

"Clarke," he says. He wipes away my tears, holding my face, making me look at him. It makes my heart break. Shaking his head, correcting the first word: " _Elle_."

I stifle a sob. I know what has to happen, I need to tell him what I've been hiding. I've been borrowing time and I can't lie forever. Sooner or later, you have to pay up, with interest. Only I don't know how to say it. I have to start somewhere, but I don't know where that is. "I don't belong here," I manage to get out.

"What? What are you talking about? Of course you do, there's no other place I want you-"

"No," I say firmly. "Not like… I mean, I don't belong _here_. In the Wasteland."

"What are you talking about?"

I bite my lip. I have to start somewhere. "When you got shot, it wasn't like there wasn't anybody there. I found your sniper. And I killed her. My husband didn't die from a Raider attack, he was murdered by a man named Kellogg. And I didn't steal my Pip-boy. It belongs… It belongs to the Vault where I came from."

He blinks, removing his hands from my face, sliding down to my shoulders. He's taking it all in, absorbing it. "You're a Vault-Dweller?" The first thing he's absorbed.

My lip quivers, "I'm one of the _first_."

"First?" The word hangs in the silence of the abandoned lab. He shakes his head, taking his hands off me. "What are you talking about?"

I grab his hands back, squeezing them. I chuckle dryly, staring at our hands, then staring at his eyes. "I saw the bombs," I manage to get out. "When everything happened, my husband and I were put in a Vault a few seconds after it happened." I take a breathe, can't look at him anymore. Can't look at anything. "They put us in these… pods. Sealed us up, put us on ice. Some sort of cryo experiment. And I only recently thawed out." I squeeze my eyes shut, mustering some sort of smile, I open my eyes again to his astonished face. "Would you believe me if I told you I'm over two hundred years old? I if I told you I was born in 2050?"

He pulls his hands away from mine, taking a step back. He raises an eyebrow. "No way in he.. heck, Clarke. No way would I believe that."

"It's not a joke, RJ," I say. And I'm thinking: _Proof. I need proof._ I tug Nate's dog tags out of my shirt, over my head. I take a step towards him, putting it in his hands and make him read what it says aloud: _NATHAN CLARKE._

"That's my husband's name. That's Nate," I say shakily. I want to stop, I can feel myself needing to stop, but I keep going. I need to purge all of it out. I pull my wedding ring off, I take Nate's identical one out of my pocket. "We had the date we got married engraved on our rings, see? _2076_. That's the year." I look up at him. "I didn't steal these people's identities. I married someone named Nathan Clarke who served in the U.S army. These people were _us_."

More. More. I want to tell him all of it, and I want him to know it all. The months of hiding, of covering up my tracks is over. I trust him enough for him to know. I want him to know. I slide my backpack over my shoulder, zipping it open, pulling out Shaun's teddy bear.

"I got this bear the day Shaun was born. His grandmother brought it for him in the hospital he was born in." I stick him back in, shuffling through more stuff. My eyes flick over to my Vault suit, which I could never bear to throw away despite everything. I gingerly pull it out, the cartoonish blue and yellow sticking out like a sore thumb in the blandness of everything else. "This was my Vault suit. Vault 111. I put it on a few moments before I was stuck in cryo. This is my _life_ , RJ. This is everything I didn't tell you."

He stares at the dog tags and the rings in his hand. He squeezes it in his palm. He looks up to face me, and I see his eyes catch on my Vault suit. He laughs mirthlessly.

"This whole time?" He asks quietly.

"Since Goodneighbor." I shake where I stand.

"So basically since we met," he says, something like sarcasm in his voice.

"RJ, I'm so sorry. I was going to tell you, I was. I just… After Christmas, I thought if you knew you'd leave, and I didn't want to lose you," I plead.

"You were afraid about losing me?" He asks, astonished. "You didn't think about losing me if you kept lying to me-" He cuts off the sentence, "You know what-" and he's holding the jewelry out. I pocket it shamefully, stuffing it all in my pocket. "And don't think we aren't talking about this," he continues. "You're _pre-war_?" He can hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth.

"You think I could make that up?" I shake. "Why would I lie about that?"

"Why did you lie about everything else?"

 _Damn_ , that hurt. I'm rubbing my hands together, missing his. He sighs, in the silence of the abandoned lab. He looks around, but there's not much to look at. He waits a while before he speaks again. "Was anything you told me real?" He gestures between us. "Was _this_ real?"

I open my mouth in horror. "RJ, stop it-"

"No, don't call me that!" His voice is rising. He's angry, he's hurt. And with good reason too. "Why'd you lie?"

"Because I hardly knew you," I defend. "You were supposed to stay around for one job, I thought you were going to leave me like everyone else, there wasn't a _point_ in telling you-"

"I told you I was going to stay," he says, his voice sounds lost. "Why didn't you say something then?"

"Because I didn't want you to think I was some… Vault freak. Because I didn't expect I'd…" I bite my tongue, the tears are coming back. I can't remember a time where I was this angry, or this sad. I want to punch him, caress him, kick him, hold him. I wanted him to die, I wanted _me_ to die.

"What?"

"I didn't expect to…" I falter, I twist my ring on my finger. "Don't make me say it," I say. "That's cruel."

"I wouldn't use that word for it," he frowns.

"Fine!" I say, a bit louder than I need to, but I'm a bundle of nerves.

I need him away from me so I can get it out. I push him back, shoving his shoulders. Mostly from frustration, but partly because of anger. "I have a crush on you, alright asshole?" I take a step away from him, my voice is rising. "Is that what you wanted to hear? Well I do. But I messed up and I'm sorry. And… And I'm sorry! I don't _know_ … I don't know what else to tell you. I'm sorry I lied and I'm sorry I keep screwing up," I squeeze the bridge of my nose, rubbing my cheek. "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." My voice doesn't sound like me; All quiet and weak and defeated.

He stares at me, and then he looks down at Duncan's cure, squeezing it in his hands again. He frowns, "why were you talking about the Glowing Sea?"

I press my palms together: _Where to start?_

"Shaun's… He's been taken by the Institute. I need to find a way in. There's someone in the Glowing Sea that can help me. If I find them, I can find him."

He pauses. "Sh... Crap, Clarke." He looks more worried than angry now. "You don't think he's been… You know."

 _Yes. I do know. It's all I've been thinking about for the past few months._ "I don't know if he's a synth. I just know that's where he is."

"And you're seriously going to go there?"

"How is it different from Med-Tek, MacCready?" I snap. "Parents do whatever they have to for their kids. And I have the Glowing Sea."

"And if he isn't there? At the Institute?"

"Then I go somewhere else. I go where he is." I made a promise. That damn bear will never forgive me if I don't keep it. I shuffle awkwardly in the silence of the room. "And I can't go it alone. I'm going to need you. More than anytime before, I need _you_ for this."

He folds his arms, looking at his feet, doesn't give me a yes. I feel helpless.

"Fine," I say. "Don't stay for me. Stay for Shaun."

He looks up. "What does he have to do with anything?"

"I can't go into the Glowing Sea by myself, MacCready. Wherever Shaun is, he's not safe. If I die, I can't help him anymore. So if you aren't going to do it for me, do it for my child." My voice breaks, the next thing I say is barely intelligible: "Please, MacCready. He's all I've got left."

He looks at me. Sighing, he unfolds his arms, taking a step towards me. "Okay," he murmurs. "I owe you, don't I?"

I smile in gratitude, I want to hug him, I want to kiss him, I want to do something. But it's not right to do so. A part of me wonders if it's ever going to be right again. I bury the thoughts deep down, shaking my head. "Thank you," is all I can say. Tears and snot running down my face. I wipe my nose with the back of my sleeve, taking a second to compose myself. "Now let's go save _your_ son."


	15. The Glowing Sea

In a small, abandoned house relatively close to the Glowing Sea, we're setting up camp for the night. The hazmat suits we're going to use to head into it wait patiently by the door, there's a nice fire crackling inside the home through the fireplace. We've already eaten dinner, and if it weren't for the fact that we've hardly talked to each other all day excluding grunts and head nods, it'd almost be nice.

MacCready hasn't spoken more than a few offhand sentences to me since Med-Tek, and that was four days ago. It's like we're strangers to each other all over again, neither of us know what to say to the other, if we should say something to the other.

We're sitting at the fireplace in the cool of the night after dinner. The nervousness of tomorrow is fresh in the air; Tomorrow we're heading into the Glowing Sea, and whatever dangers come along with it. I look over to MacCready, who's sitting several feet away from me, busying himself by cleaning his rifle for the umpteenth time since we got here.

Standing up, I brush my pants off. "See you in the morning," I murmur, heading to the other side of the house to fetch my sleeping bag. I know what's going to happen next; He grunts, spends a bit of time awake, then falls asleep once he thinks I've gone to bed.

But that's not what happens. He talks. A full sentence, even. "Alright, hold up. We gotta talk." His voice sounds weird.

I stop my my tracks, shocked. "Is something wrong?"

"Uh, _yeah_. You could say that." He says, remaining sitting. "Here we were, good partners, traveling through the Commonwealth together doing what we do best…. Then suddenly, I realize I don't know you at all. You're practically a stranger to me. Everything I thought about you wasn't real. You're like that stranger that walked up to me in the Third Rail all over again."

It's way more than he's said in the past week. I squirm where I stand. "I'm sorry, MacCready," I start. "I know. I just… I can make it up to you if you let me-"

"If you're sorry then you better get your act together," he says, carefully setting his gun down and standing up. There's a couch dividing us now. "I'm not looking for any… special favors or proof that you're gonna make it up to me. I just want the old you back." He sighs, folding his arms. "Although, I guess the old you wasn't you at all."

It feels like I've been punched in the stomach. I say sheepishly. "I know, I just - I was afraid," I squirm. "People don't like what they can't understand, and I'm not easy to understand. I thought… I don't know what I thought."

He rolls his eyes, looking away from me, obviously pissed. It's not the answer that he wants, but I don't know what else to give him. "Look, I'm tired of talking about this, so I'm just gonna say it now."

"What?"

He pauses, "...I've been thinking."

"About?" My voice all nervous and squeaky.

He goes on, "After this is all done…. After you find Shaun," he sighs. "I'm going back to the Capital Wasteland to see Duncan again."

"Oh. MacCready that's great news, he'll be so happy to see you again." I smile. But then the rest of what he's saying connects, and I can feel the color draining out of my face. "You're not coming back to the Commonwealth."

He fidgets uncomfortably, takes off his cap, runs his fingers through his hair and adjusts the hat again. I shake my head, "why?" My voice is so quiet it's pathetic. I walk around the couch so I'm completely facing him now. "You could bring Duncan _here_."

He folds his arms, looking everywhere but at me. "There's nothing keeping me here anymore, Clarke."

 _Nothing keeping me here anymore._ The last word echoes in my mind. I felt like I how going to be sick. "Oh."

He looks up, "I was talking about the Gunners."

 _No, the sad thing is you really weren't_. I need to get a control on my emotions, so I shove down however I'm feeling and channel it into what the facts are. "It doesn't matter," I whisper. "I'm not really in the position to keep you from seeing him anyway. If it were the other way around…" I bite my lip. "Like I told you, I get what's like to be a parent. Kid comes first. Always." That's the rule, that's the promise you make when you sign up for parenthood.

He breaths of a sigh of relief, "Right."

The silence that comes after is deafening. I don't know what to say to him. Well, not true - There's a million things I want to say to him, but most of it boils down to: _How could you leave me after everything we've been through?_

I want him to stay, I need him to stay. But even if I don't know Duncan, I get what it's like to not have a parent for awhile. I was a foster kid, after all. Boys need their fathers. And he's offered to stay around long enough to get me Shaun, which is more than I deserve.

"I'll miss you when you're gone," I say after a while. "You… Take care of yourself, okay?"

He sighs, "You too."

I can't meet his gaze. "You ready to head into the Glowing Sea tomorrow?"

He nods. "Yeah. You should… get some sleep."

I nod back, pausing to say goodnight. And when I tug my sleeping bag over my head, I can't get a lick of sleep, and I can't for the rest of the night.

* * *

At the edge of Commonwealth - the space between here and there lies the Glowing Sea. It's large, it's vast, the sky is colored differently, and the very ground is warped in color from the rest of the Wasteland. There's a word for it too, the space between. It's an ecotone. A combination- no, a transition of two biological communities. Two things at once.

I'd point it out to MacCready, but the silence is heavy over the two of us. I glance cautiously down at my hazmat suit again, checking for rips. We stocked up beyond all hell on RadAway and Rad-X, but I'm not taking chances. I swing my head over to look at him, he nods back.

"This is where the bombs fell," I say. "Or, it was around here. This is ground zero for it all."

MacCready whistles, admiring the landscape in front of us. "Pre-war," he trails off. "I can't deny I've got questions about it."

"I owe you some answers," I tell him. And I want to tell him, more than anything I just want to talk to him again. I pause, thinking. "Tell you what. We can do it slow. You can ask me one question a day, and I'll answer it in complete honesty. No lies, totally up front."

He makes a face, "just one question?"

I shrug, "Leaves no room for you to forget answers, for them all to blur together. You know?"

He weighs it in his mind. "Alright. Sounds fair." He pauses, thinking. Then: "What was your life like?"

"It was like…" I chew on my lip, trying to find the words. "It was like Diamond City. It was like Fenway: A ballpark. All lines, structure, and rules, never changing."

It's a weird answer, but he pursues: "And… When the bombs fell?"

I pause. "Being hit over the wall into unknown territory."

"Must've put you in a shock," he says.

"That's putting it lightly," I say, somewhere between laughing and sighing. "It was really nice, MacCready. Relatively speaking. Everything was clean, colors were vibrant. People didn't shoot you if they saw you in the streets. They used roads to drive on instead of making bases or hideouts. And you never had to eat giant roaches for dinner."

He nods, and gives a small smile, though it's hard to see his face through the glare of his helmet, "sounds nice."

"It wasn't perfect," I sigh. "I didn't have the easiest life. But it was life. It was home, you know?"

"Maybe," he says. "Maybe not. Maybe we've got different definitions of home."

I frown. "Well, what's yours?"

He hesitates. "A… cave."

I blink. "Wow, I guess we do."

It's hard to make out, but he's rolling his eyes, "Different childhoods. What's your definition of a home anyway?"

I pause. _Home is where your mother bakes you Christmas cookies. Home is where father wraps you up in tight hugs. Home is sleepovers in your sister's room. Home is the smell of microwave popcorn and your favorite movie playing in the living room. Home is the smell of a newborn baby and your husband's cologne. Home is the feeling I had when I looked at Nate and the feeling I get when I look at you._ "Not a cave, that's for damn sure."

MacCready scoffs, "Right." He's done talking about it.

We head up a hill, coming up into the beginning of the Glowing Sea. The end of the ecotone, and the beginning of the real thing.

And then while I was thinking about MacCready and Shaun and biological transitions, I got to thinking that I was an ecotone. A combination of pre-war and post-war; Two souls in one body, trying to coexist as best as they could. Trying to be civilized and becoming savage all at once.

 _Elenora Clarke: Ecotone being._

I open my mouth to ask MacCready about his cave childhood, but a group of feral ghouls down below in the valley stops me from the conversation. I curse under my breath, pulling out my rifle. I shout for MacCready to cover me while I take point and we work around the group, taking out bodies.

We work well together, despite the growing tension between us. We check our suits for rips, guns for ammo and we keep moving.

We walk for what feels like hours, but that's probably only because I'm itching to get out of the glowing Glowing Sea. We run into a couple of Radscorpions, but they only travel in packs of two so when MacCready and I work together it's easier to handle.

It takes a while, but we eventually reach the Crater of Atom. This weird town set up in the middle of seen-it-nowhere.

"Is this normal?-" I begin.

"No. I thought this was a myth..." MacCready says.

I squint my eyes, "Maybe one of them knows where Virgil is," I say. I can make out MacCready giving me a pointed look underneath his helmet. "What? It's not like we're gonna find help elsewhere."

"We _really_ need to be on the same page about dangerous people," he sighs. "Lead the way, boss."

We head into the crater, but very soon get stopped: "Stop right there, stranger."

There's a woman commanding us to do so. Her cheeks and gaunt and hollow, her hair stringy and limp, the color is in face is all distorted. But despite it all, she's not a ghoul. "You approach Atom's Holy ground. Why? State your purpose, or be divided in his sight."

I glance over at MacCready, "We're looking for someone…" I say hesitantly. "A scientist. Named Virgil."

"Virgil? Yes, we know this Virgil. What do you want with him?"

"We need to ask him some questions," I reply. "It's very important."

She goes on, telling us about how he's an affront to Atom, how he's causing some concern. But eventually, she tells us about where he is; A cave a few miles southwest of here.

"Thank you," I say, backing up eager to get out of the crater. She tells us to be careful as MacCready and I hurry away from her and out of the crater, far away from Atom's people. I check my Pip-boy, ignoring the clicking sound of the geiger counter and turn on my map. "Southwest is this direction, let's go." I urge.

So we move forward, walking for a while. And I'm so trapped in my own thoughts I hardly notice that sound that could make grown men wet their pants. MacCready shoots a hand in front of me, interrupting my mind. "You hear that?"

I wait, but then we hear to again. The deathclaw roars again as I see a glimpse of it charging over the nearest hill. "MacCready!" I yelp.

He's thinking quicker than I am, grabbing my arm and pulling me into a run. I've never seen him run that fast before.

He tells me to jump, and together we dive behind the nearest rock together, MacCready brings out his gun and starts firing, "Get it from behind! I'll take center!"

"Don't let it touch your suit!" I shout, running away from him to get more shots into the beast. I circle around as the deathclaw's attention is on MacCready. I pull out my rifle, slamming rounds into it's back. It's not doing anything.

I pull a grenade off my belt loop, the thing slips through my fingers as I try to pull the pin out. I laugh triumphantly when I do the task, and barely take the time to aim as I throw the grenade in the deathclaw's direction. It soars in the air for a second, but then I notice how close it's coming to MacCready.

"Run! MacCready, _run_!"

I run towards them, and he notices, booking it, just as the grenade bounces off the deathclaw's head. An explosion occurs as it hits; A wave of dirt, dust, and - yes - bits of the effing deathclaw burst away from the explosion, shuddering around us. I'm too close to the blast zone that it knocks me off my feet, hurling me back.

After the boom of the explosion, I can hear the ringing in my ears. Coughing, I use my elbows to prop me up. I look, half expecting the creature to be dead, but it's not. It's angry, and it's coming directly for me.

Blood roars in my ears, I scramble up, but I'm too slow. The deathclaw raises a claw and _thwaps_ me away like I'm a paperweight. Pain explodes all over me, as I land hard onto the nearest hill. I shudder, my lungs feel like they have weight to them, like it's hard to breath. I can hardly move and my vision is going fuzzy, but I can still make out a blur of the deathclaw form hounding me.

 _This is how it ends,_ I think. Wherever Shaun is, I hope he's happy and I hope he's safe.

I can see my husband's face before me, then my mother and father and sister's then more faces than I can count, faces I recognize and faces I don't, there's Shaun and Piper and Nick, there's the settlers in Sanctuary and all the bodies in the cryo chambers, all dead, been dead for a while.

And in the midst of all of them, there's MacCready standing above me, protecting me, sending round after round into the deathclaw, MacCready shoots it blindly under it falls, crushing the ground below it. He screams triumphantly when it does.

He whips around then, coming towards me. But I can't focus on him. Can't focus on anything. He's familiar wearing a serious look on his face- the mask of worry- like the welfare of the entire world rests on his shoulders, I missed that look.

"Mac, I don't- "

He gives me this _shut-up-I'm-working-look_. "Shh," he says. "Where's your RadAway…" His voice is going in and out of hearing, fuddled in with the ringing. It's like hearing a song on the radio when the volume is constantly changing. "You… Can hear me? ….Crap, crap… Crap, Elle… Your suit! There's a…. Rip."

He grabs my arms, pulling me up, slinging my arm around his shoulder. "I better…. Paid for this."

I think I told him about ecotones right then. Told him all about biological communities and then I lost consciousness.

 _I'm so sorry, Shaun. So Sorry._

 _No more bullshiting._

 _I'm not coming._

* * *

I wake up slowly. The room around me has a fuzzy sort of feel. The light inside is faint, and shapes and object blur together. I can hear the hum of computers and mechanics all around me.

I can feel there's someone here with me, but I don't think it's MacCready. My breath catches at the sound of something creeking, the way a floorboard does when someone walks across. I shut my eyes again, pretending to be asleep.

When you're out of options, the best option is to do nothing. Play dead. The possum option. I'm trying to keep my breath steady but I'm not doing a good job of it.

"Good," the owner of the footsteps booms. "You're awake."

I whimper in response, cracking open an eyelid. In front of me is a Super Mutant. I stifle a cry and close my eyes again, trying to lift an arm to cover my face but the pain is too great. I shudder in my paralysis. "Hi," I say.

He gives a little laugh, like I said something funny. "Hello." _It's a polite Super Mutant_ , I think. _Which immediately leads to my next thought of: Holy shit, it's a mother effing Super Mutant and it's talking._

I open my eyes again, "There was somebody with me," I shake. "Um, my friend, is he here?"

The Mother Effing Super Mutant looks behind us, and there he is, in the corner of the cave perfectly curled up, head on his backpack and tucked under his arm is a toy alien. I gasp in relief. Suddenly it doesn't matter that I'm in a cave, or that my Hazmat suit is nowhere to be found or that there's a monster right above me; There _he_ is, and here _I_ am. And as far as I can tell, he's breathing.

I try to sit up slowly, "Okay, okay… I don't know what you want with me. If you let us go now… We can pay you. We have caps."

The mutant leans down, raising a hand to my arm. I yelp in fear, pulling back. The scream wakes MacCready, he bursts up, hand on a pistol hidden under the toy.

The mutant raises his hands in defense, and points to the IV linked in my arm, giving me a steady dose of RadAway. He pulls out the needle, sending a prickling of pain up my arm.

MacCready stands, and walks over leaning down next to me. "Hey, Elle. You're gonna have to calm down, we're safe here."

The fear channels into some sort of confusion, then anger. "We're safe here?" I say in disbelief. "Hate to break it to you, but we're in the middle of the Glowing Sea and there's a mother effing super mutant-"

"That," MacCready gives me a wary look. "Is Virgil. Who gave us RadAway and shelter after you got the crap beaten out of you."

I look at him, then I look at the mutant. I press my head back against the floor and shake my head. "Why can't anything be _normal_?" I sigh, bringing a hand to rub my face. "Sorry…. Virgil. I'm Elle. Sorry."

He doesn't respond to it, only frown and adjusts the glasses on his nose. "I was told you need help getting into the Institute."

I look at MacCready who gives me a nod. "Yeah, that's right. My son's been kidnapped by them, and I need him back. And we know you used to work for them. So if there's anything you know…"

He raises a hand to stop my "I can help, but I'm going to need something in return."

"Whatever you need," I jump. Doesn't matter what it is if it's a ticket inside.

"Before I was forced to leave, I was working on a serum to reverse this mutation. It could return me to normal. If you get in there, I need you to find it in my old office, and bring it to me. I think that's pretty reasonable, in exchange for helping you."

I nod. "Anything if it's a way in."

"All right. Let's talk details. First thing's first. You know how synths get in and out of the Institute?"

"Yeah, they use some sort of teleporter."

"Well, well. Not many know about it. Pretty closely guarded secret. You've certainly done your homework. It's commonly referred to as the 'Molecular Relay.' I don't understand all the science behind it, but it works. It de-materializes you in one place, re-materializes you in another. I'm sure it sounds crazy, but it's a reality. The relay is the only way in and out of the Institute. You understand? The only one," Virgil eyes me. "That means you're going to have to use it."

I look away. I'm going to be sick. I should know better by now. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, it gets worse.

He doesn't give me the time to process it, just says: "Now, have you ever seen an Institute Courser?"

"What's that?"

"Another Institute secret."

I pull myself up into a sitting position, shuddering as I do. "Your people sure have a lot of those," I tell him.

He goes on, describing what they are and what they do for the Institute. And why it's important to find them - they've got chips installed in their heads that can relay to the Institute, and the only way I'm getting in is if I kill one.

"The primary insertion point for Coursers is in the ruins of CIT, directly above the Institute. You'll want to head there. Since the Relay causes some pretty heavy interference all across the EM spectrum, you can tune into the radio on your Pip-Boy to hear it. Listen to the lower end of the band and you'll be able to hear it."

"Thank you," I gasp in relief. "Thank you so much."

"Not going to lie," Virgil says. "But the odds aren't exactly in your favor. But if you do make it in, remember the serum. And good luck."

Virgil hesitates to say something but leaves it be. "I'll leave the two of you alone to think about this." And with that, he leaves the room.

I turn to face Mac, and he's the first to speak: "I can't believe you're still alive."

I shrug. I rub my eyes, wincing as I move my body. "Shit. What have I gotten myself into, MacCready?" I whisper. "Teleporters, Coursers, the Insitute. It's a lot."

He takes a seat next to me. Doesn't say anything, just sits next to me, our backs leaning up against the cave wall, arms folded together. We don't speak for several minutes.

"We're gonna head to leave eventually," I tell him. "Where's our stuff? The hazmat suits…"

He looks over to the some shelves on the other side of the room. "Yours has some bad rips in it," he tells me.

"Nothing duct tape can't fix," I murmur. "I have some scavenged in my backpack."

"Good, good…" He nods. Then it becomes blatantly obvious we're both talking around the subject. He's leaving soon, I'm going to the Institute, and he's still mad at me.

"Well," I say. "We should probably get a move on."

He stands up first, helps me up. MacCready work for a while on my suit while I take a few stimpaks to help with the pain. After an hour or so, we're ready to leave. We say goodbye to Virgil and head back into the Glowing sea, and the silence between us is devoured in the clicking of a geiger counter.


	16. Broken Noses

**CIT RUINS - FEBRUARY 10, 2288**

"You sure this is the place?"

I fumble to click into the radio station, listening for the beeps to follow. "Positive," I nod. "Let's go, I wanna be done with this as quick as possible."

"Whatever you say, boss."

We walk together shoulder to shoulder out on the streets of Cambridge. The day's been surprisingly quiet, we've seen little to no combat today.

I turn a corner when I hear the beepings growing louder in the direction, I urge MacCready to follow, listening closely. I glance up to make sure I won't run into anything, but I do a double take when I see what's so close.

I do a complete stop, halt at the end of the street, gasping softly. I even turn off the radio, which gets MacCready's attention.

"What's wrong?" He asks, turning his head. But I don't look back at him; I'm focused at what's ahead of me. In the corner of my eye, I see his confusion, and then he looks where I am. He huffs, "A church?"

I shake my head, eyes never leaving the building. I take a step towards it, then another. "It's not just a church…"

Suddenly, the need to explain it to him isn't as important as the need to see how it used to look; Without checking to see if he'll follow me, I run towards the church. "What are you… _Clarke_!"

I don't care. Bursting through the double doors, I find it's completely destroyed; The benches pointing towards the podium either are covered in the debris of the fallen roof or collapsed by time. The podium stands tall, but the cross in the front is mysterious gone. The stained glass windows are shattered, reflecting broken bits of purple and red lights across the room. The dust in the air swirls around in the golden light of the afternoon.

I gulp, turning around in the mess of the dilapidated church. It's only when I'm passing through the aisles that I notice the bodies. Skeletons of people wearing now tattered sunday clothes still sitting at the pews. I cup a hand around my mouth, shuddering when I see it. For a moment, I wonder if I could recognize one of them, but I shut the idea down as quickly as I can, not giving it another thought.

I hear MacCready swing one of the double doors open. " _Clarke_! ...Whoa," he breathes. "This place is wrecked."

I pay no attention to it, walking up the steps to the podium. I put my hands on it, looking out over the church.

MacCready runs up the aisle, huffing, "you know you shouldn't just run off like that, that was really-"

"MacCready," I snap. "Can we not do this today?"

He stops, halting in front of the stage. "Alright. Crap, I didn't know this was…"

I raise my hands, stepping away from the podium, shaking my head. I step off the stage, heading over to face him. "No. You didn't. It is a big deal, okay?" I whisper. I look around the church again. "...Can I tell you something?"

He cocks an eyebrow. "What's up?"

I faintly laugh, rubbing my shoulders. "I got married in this church. Some two hundred years back." I shake my head. "Lifetimes ago, I swear."

The color runs out of his face as he gives me the most pitiful look I've ever seen on him. "Oh."

I squirm, looking at my feet. "Can I have a moment alone in here?" I whisper.

He frowns, "Is it safe?"

I shoot him a pleading look, "MacCready," I inhale. "I need this."

He's hesitant to leave, but he goes all the same. "I'll wait for you outside," he murmurs, pivoting around.

I wait until I hear the doors close before I find a pew; One where there's no skeletons or hardly any debris; I settle for one a few away from the stage and take a seat.

I close my eyes, and try to remember our wedding day as best as I can, but all I can see is the cryo chambers and I couldn't do it anymore. I sigh, rubbing my temples and I do what I've been needing to do for a while:

I clasp my hands together and bow my head. _Dear God…_

It's five minutes before I can come up with something else to say, and once I do, the words start flowing - and in strange directions, too. At first, I'm angry. I knew I would be. _How could you? Why did you? Why me? Why not, say, the one you prepared through the trials of war and training?_

Yet after ten minutes it mellows, and it's not about me anymore. It's about RJ. At first it's sarcastic, and it's about asking God if he'll cut me a break soon, but then the mood shifts and it's different: _Give him strength God, give him hope. Protect Duncan, God. Let him be okay. Let him be healthy._

It's twenty minutes later before I start to finish up. Even before I say amen, I feel the tears welling up inside. There's a heaving feeling inside my gut that I can't shake. My eyes flood and hot tears roll down my cheek. I wrap my arms around myself and place my head on my lap and shudder. And I'm not even sure why I am - maybe it's for me, maybe it's because I'm sad about MacCready going, maybe it's because I know a part of me doesn't believe in this anymore.

I take a few minutes after I'm done crying to make sure the emotions don't come back. I finish my prayer, take a few moments to look the church and stand up, heading for MacCready waiting outside.

MacCready must've heard me bawling, but he got the good sense to not mention it. He looks at me sadly. "You were in there a while... Had a lot to say?"

I shrug.

He nods, doesn't question it, walking ahead. I follow.

I turn back on my radio. We follow the beeping sound of it for a bit but eventually I can't take it anymore. I shut the radio off. "Hey," I say, bringing myself to a halt, turning around to face him. "Hey, we gotta talk."

He lifts his arms up. "Okay. What do you want to about?"

"The fucking weather, MacCready," I say exasperated.

He frowns, but nods. "Okay," he says. "Let's talk about it."

I fold my arms, sighing. "When I was in that church, I realized something." I say, I pause, trying to figure out how to phrase it. "Before the war, I was religious. I believed _everything_ happened for a reason. Nate gets drafted? Happened for a reason. I get adopted by a certain couple? For a reason. I get lung cancer at twelve? It's fate."

He tilts his head, "you had lung cancer?"

"Not anymore," I roll my eyes. "Pay attention, okay? Here's my point; I kept thinking that once I got out of the Vault. And I kept thinking it when I met you."

"Me?"

I take a deep breath, because I need to explain this as cleanly as possible. "You." I say. "You were in the Third Rail that day, and I got shot just close enough to be led to Goodneighbor to see you. You could've been in Quincy or _China_ for all it mattered. And when you told me you had a wife who died and a son - I thought it had to mean something. Because you lived when you should've died, and I lived when _I_ should've died. We were just so alike. Just - just too many coincidences to be a coincidence."

He's not interjecting anymore. He's listening closely.

I shrug, the loss of hope in my tone almost sounds pathetic. "But that's all it is, Mac. A coincidence. There's no divine plan. There's no meant-to-be in any of it." I fold my arms together. Looking at my feet. "I'm not sure there was any before now that I think about it," I pinch the bridge of my nose, sighing. "Why am I telling you this? You don't even… care," I sigh, rubbing my cheek. "Let's just go get the stupid Courser chip," I mutter.

I spin around, tuning into the radio station again. MacCready grabs my wrist and tugs me towards him. Gently. "I care."

There's a but coming up. I can sense it. So I say it for him. "But I need to redeem myself first," I say hollowly. "I messed up and I need to fix it. I know, MacCready."

He lets go of my wrist. "I don't want to fight anymore, Clarke." He say exasperatedly. "This is becoming stupid."

I blink. "I know it's stupid, MacCready," I tell him. "But what does that mean? Are you… Not mad at me anymore?"

"No," he says. "Yes. I don't know," he groans and rubs his face. "I mean, I think if I knew you wouldn't do it again, maybe we could start over. But I don't know."

I shake my head, "I never liked lying to you, Mac." I say softly. Sighing, I say: "No more excuses, if you want to know something, I want you to ask."

He adjusts his cap, running his hands through his hair. He says that we should keep moving, so we do. I turn back on the radio, listening to the radio frequencies that'll drag us closer to the courser.

MacCready fidgets for a while, but eventually racks up the courage to ask a question. "What were you doing in that church for so long?"

I hesitate, but I promised answers. "I was praying," I say sheepishly.

"Ah."

More silence.

"So you got married in that church?"

"Two hundred and twelve years ago," I say wistfully. "Nate was a soldier. Popped the question two weeks after he got home," I chuckle, twisting the ring on my finger.

"He was a soldier?" I could have been imagining it, but MacCready's voice sounded jealous.

"Yeah."

His next question surprises me: "Was he different?" He asks, "when he came back from war?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"There was something hurt inside him," I explain. "Something doctors couldn't fix."

"What was it?"

"I don't know, he never talked about it." _Never talked about anything._

"Can I ask you something else?"

"What?"

"Was it hard to love him?"

"No." I don't even hesitate.

* * *

 _POCK!_ MacCready shot zooms through the air, but misses the Courser's dodge. The Courser activates a Stealth Boy and disappears in the air again.

"Damn it," I curse under my breath. I hesitantly take a step forward from where he went missing, urging MacCready to take rear. I wait with baited breath, waiting for him to reappear again.

When he does, I didn't expect it to be right in front of MacCready. I hear the zap of the Stealth Boy that signals the end of the use of it. MacCready gasps, and I turn around just close enough to see the Courser raising his gun. He's between the two of us now.

MacCready didn't think twice in Slocum Joe's. I don't now. Impulsively, I kick the knees of the Courser as forcefully as I can, sending him down. It doesn't last, because he's back up quickly, I jump in front of MacCready, lunging in front of him just in time for the Courser to take a swing at me.

If it had been baseball, I would have hit a home run. I feel the impact of the metal wall as my back and my nape slam into it with a solid _thwack_ , but all it did was make the Courser mad again. I attempt to get up, but he marched straight up to me and smacked the muzzle of gun across my cheek, no time to get out of the way.

Pain explodes in my head, I huddle on the floor in some sort of fetal position, covering my head, trying to process what's happening despite the ringing in my ears and the sticky sensation of blood trickling down my nose.

I hear shuffling - though it's muddled with the ringing - and then next time I look up, I see MacCready beating the shit out of the courser. Somehow, that wiry asshole pinned him down.

I try to lean up on my elbows, my arms quivering under my weight. I slump down, hands shakily trying to find my gun. I find it a few feet away from where I am.

On the other side of the room, MacCready gets flipped on his side and the Courser throws punches down on him.

I inch forward on my knees to get the gun. I fumble to get it in my hands. When I do, I raise the muzzle of the 10mm, aiming at the Courser's head - but I hesitate. What if I hit Mac instead? What if I aimed wrong? I've been training, had practice, but I wasn't ready for something this close.

As I lay sprawled there, paralyzed in self-doubt, MacCready kept taking hits and I could feel my heart clench as I hear the terrible cries bursting out of his mouth.

I adjust the gun in my hand, I was sweating, shaking, trying to think. _Stay or go, Elenora? Either/Or?_

My finger yanks back on the trigger, and the gun kicked back against my hand, and the handle shook and I emptied the entire clip into it's head.

MacCready hands fumble between his and the Courser's body as he pushes it off him. He scrambles away from the corpse, leaning back on his elbows - and then he gets a glance at me.

"Elle?" MacCready's voice wavers. He scrambles up, wincing as he does, he rushes over to me. "Sh…. Crap. You can't… Just hold on for a second, alright?"

"I think my nose is broken."

He rips his backpack open, scrambling through for something. I blink, my vision feeling hazy and slightly blurry - going in and out of focus. He pulls something out and jabs it into my forearm. Relief trickles into my arms, up my shoulder, making me feel slightly better. I sigh in relief, alright trying to prop myself up in my elbows, but MacCready's already got me wrapped in his arms. It's so quick, his nose is already burrowed into my shoulder before I realize it. He rocks me back and forth in my arms, murmuring something I can only slightly make out - the ringing is deafening. " _Stupid… I'm so stupid_ …"

I lift my arms gingerly, wrapping them around him. It's a little awkward to do so - I'm half laying down, and I think he's starting to cry. "It's okay, Mac."

"Not okay," he murmurs into my hair, his breath in ear.

I blink. My grip around him tightens so hard my knuckles turn white. "Let's get the courser chip, okay?"

He breaks away, nodding solemnly. He turns his head towards the body lying on the floor. I focus on my breathing and the pain in my head until MacCready comes back with an odd looking bit of wire and metal; The Courser Chip.

It's a bit of a wrestle to get back to Goodneighbor; Both to heal and to take the chip to Doctor Amari. And there's a kidnapped synth inside the building, but we get that squared away pretty easily.

We walk back to Goodneighbor without much interruptions or hiccups. I go to talk to Doctor Amari while MacCready checks with Daisy on updates from his caravan.

I walk into the Memory Den alone, and I find Doctor Amari in the back of the room, typing away.

She looks honestly surprised when she sees me. "You're back. The Glowing Sea. Virgil. What happened?"

I sigh, not wanting to get into the meat of it. "Do you know anything about decoding Courser Chips?"

"A Courser Chip? You _fought_ a Courser? Oh, my gosh." She blinks. "...Unfortunately, I can't help you. I've worked on a lot of Synths, but never a Courser. I don't know what that chip does. Let alone how to decode it."

I rub the side of my face gingerly - "You've got to know something."

She pauses, places a hand on her chin. "I might. I work with a group that, well, they're the only ones I know that even have a chance at cracking Institute security. They're called the Railroad."

I frown. "The Railroad?"

"The help synths escape the Institute. I don't know know who they all are but… One of them gave me a code phrase. Said it would help me find them in an emergency: Follow the Freedom Trail."

I shrug. I've heard weirder this week, and all I want to do at this point is get some rest. "All right. I'll find them," I half heartedly promise - I'll worry about it another day.

"I'm sorry that's so cryptic," she apologizes. "But it's all I know."

It's not enough, but it never is. And we'll work off the information we have.

I meet up with MacCready at Daisy's again and we buy some canned food from Daisy while we're there - too tired to go into the Third Rail for drinks - and head up to our rooms.

We buy a room in Rexford again.

We eat our dinner solemnly on the edge of the bed in our room. The last time we were here, we danced together. I can't help but think how much has changed since then.

We listen to the lonely wind whistling through the slits of the boarded up windows in Rexford. We feel the coldness in the breeze, blowing through the mismatched curtains.

"I wanted to thank you," he says suddenly.

"For what?" I ask.

"You saved my life today."

I shrug, "you took a bullet for me once," I say. "I think we're even."

My face is covered in scars, scrapes, bruises. My hair, unwashed and looks like a bird nested in it. I'm dressed up in three layers of clothing, and MacCready leans over and kisses me anyway. A little light peck on my cheekbone.

"What's that for?" I ask, my voice coming out in a tiny squeak, the voice of a girl from long ago.

"I dunno," he murmurs. "It's not important."

"Nothing is not important anymore."


	17. Bill's Come Due

The light of the late afternoon sun lights the empty streets - letting us know the sun will be setting soon. We trot through Boston Commons, following the red line leading us to the Railroad.

He takes point, going ahead. We walk for a while, and eventually we reach the end of the trail - it stops at an old church. And it's easy to recognize - it's the Old North Church. Dilapidated on the roof, but the brick's stayed surprisingly durable over the years.

"This must be the end of it," I say, heading for the doors. "C'mon, it's gotta be in here."

"The end of the trail is a church?" MacCready asks.

"Guess so," I say. "I don't know, I never took the tour back in the day."

I burst through the door into the church. It's smaller than I remember, but that could be due to the fact I haven't been here since I was little. There's an atrium, collapsed balconies. I flick my Pip-boy light on as we descend into the church.

We explore the church for a while, but after a bunch of nothing, we eventually find the entryway into the crypts below. The tunnel is eerily quiet, it feels off. Like we should be expecting something, someone anytime soon.

Then, in the clamped up silence of the dark - " _Tunnel snakes rule!_ " MacCready burst into laughter, making me jump. "Sorry, heard that a long time ago-"

I shush him, because I think we've reached the end of the tunnel. At the end of it, there's one solidary lantern, flickering against the dark of everything else.

I shine the light of my Pip-boy around, looking for something else. On the wall is some sort of circle, almost like a dial that reads: BOSTON - THE FREEDOM TRAIL.

"So that's it?" MacCready scoffs. "We reached the end of the Freedom Trail, where's the fricking Railroad?"

I look at the Freedom Trail ring. I press a hand on it, sighing. "Okay - maybe we…" My hand slips and the thing spins. I pause, staring at the circle again. "It spins?"

"Revolutionary," Mac groans. "Can we get out of here now, this place is giving me the creeps."

I spin the dial again, it moves along the letters. I frown, "You don't think…" I enter in an R. The dial takes it. "You've gotta be kidding me," I whisper.

"What?"

I spin the dial again, and take my chances. _R-A-I-L-R-O-A-D._

The wall of the tunnel gives a satisfying _pop!_ and slides open.

MacCready chuckles. "Now we're in business." Then he looks over at me. "Ladies first."

I roll my eyes, stepping inside the wall.

Suddenly, lights flash on, giving me a headache after being in the dark of the crypt for so long. I raise a hand to cover the light.

A woman's voice - authoritative and loud speaks: "Stop right there." It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but I see there's not one, but three people ahead of us. One's hefting a heavy and dangerous looking gun, the other has something smaller, but it's the one in the middle - the one who spoke that gets my attention. "You went through a lot of effort to arrange this meeting. But before we go any further, _who the hell are you_?"

"Whoa," Mac says cautiously when he sees them, maybe because he saw their guns. Instinctively, I can see him raise a hand over me but I push it away gently.

"Doctor Amari sent us," I tell her group. "She said you knew something about decoding Courser chips. This is the Railroad… Isn't it?"

Her eyes narrow, "What do you want to know about Courser Chips?"

I exchange glances with MacCready. "Look lady," he tells them. "We're not your enemy."

"If that's true, then you have nothing to fear," the woman says. "Well, if the Railroad is what you're trying to find, you've succeeded. I'm Desdemona and I'm the leader of the Railroad, and you are?"

We're about to answer, but Desdemona's still talking. "Deacon, where've you been?"

I didn't even realize there was someone behind her until he starts speaking. "Oh, you're having a party? What gives with my invitation?"

"I need intel," she says. "Who are they?"

The man adjusts his shades enough to get a look at us. (Why does he have shades, we're underground?) "Uh news flash, Dez - these people are kind of a big deal."

MacCready shoots me a look, "We supposed to know you too?"

Sunglasses shrugs animatedly, "Well, I mean, if you take out an _entire highway_ of Gunners, you're going to get notoriety."

"People know about that?" I ask.

"Commonwealth's going off about it," Sunglasses says, then he's turning to Desdemona. "And if that wasn't enough, didn't you hear them? Dez, don't they have a _Courser Chip_? I mean, holy shit, if that's not convincing! There's no way they're with the Institute!"

"That changes things," Desdemona says, turning towards us. "We're letting you into our headquarters. You're the first outsider ever to be given this privilege. We'll discuss details on the chip inside." She turns around a motions us to follow her. We do, walking ahead of her two agents and sunglasses. She leads us to the back of the tunnel, a door inside.

"Decoding a courser chip is a very delicate operation, a million things could go wrong - the least of which is losing the data." She says once we're safely inside. "Fortunately, we have the right man for the job - meet Tinker Tom."

She walks us over to a peculiar looking man. Overalls, boots - it's what's on top of his head that sets him apart; Some sort of cap with all sorts of junk and antennas sticking out. Desdemona introduces us as.

"Whoa, for real? Man, it's been ages since we had one of those!" He says, toothy grinned.

"Right, ground rules -" She says to us. "Tom can get you the code, but once he's done we get the Courser Chip."

"Fine, it's yours." I say, pulling it out of my coat pocket. I'm not about to get sentimental on a chip I found in someone's brain.

She smiles, "Tom. Make it happen."

Tom takes the chip, turning it around in his hands. "Alright, little Courser Chip," he coddles. "Let's take a crack at you." He plugs it into his machine, and waits. "We're in. _Chip: Accessed._ Let's just poke around the analog connectors a little - what? Oh man, don't crash - _keep it together_ … Memory hiccup. Okay, okay… Encryption algorithms…" he types something into the monitor. " _C'mon_ , baby, show me that pattern, where is it? I _got_ you, you Institute _bastard_ , I _got_ you-"

MacCready and I share looks.

"...And we got it! _Hoo_ , we got the code! _Hahaha_ , let me load that onto a holotape for you." He hands me the codes.

"Nice work, Tom." Desdemona smiles. "And you, I'd love to work with you if you're up for it. Let me know if you're interested." With that, she walks away from us.

I hold the codes in my palm, grinning. "We've got our blueprints. Now all we have to do is start on the Molecular Relay," I tell Mac.

"How the hell are we gonna do that?" He asks.

I pause, looking around, trying to find the leader again the the crypts. "Hey, Desdemona!" I say, when I lock eyes with her. I walk up to her, "You still interested in working together?"

She folds her arms, "Alright. What were you thinking?"

"My son was kidnapped by the Institute, I need help getting him back."

"Your boy was kidnapped?" She jumps at the sentence. "That's terrible, and especially from the Institute."

"I have a way to find him," I say. "And if you help me, I'll get you whatever you need on the Institute."

She cocks her head, "If we're going to be dealing with each other I need know we're on the same page. You know what a synth is, right?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Good," she says, raising her chin a little, "The Institute uses synths are property, as tools," she goes on. "So we seek to free the synths from their bondage. Give them a chance at a real life."

She looks me up and down then, her eyes boring into me. "I have a question," her voice strict. "The only question that matters: Would you give your life for a synth, even if that man is a synth?"

I blink, "kind of a loaded question, isn't it?"

"Answer with your gut on it," she goes on. "No middle ground."

Pausing, I consider what she's saying. _It would depend on the situation_ , I'd like to tell her. But she's asking it as a yes or no. _What if someone you loved were a synth? Would you still give your life for them, despite being a synth?_ And I know my answer.

"I've risked my life for people before," I say, giving a quick glance to MacCready, although he's oblivious to it. "Makes no difference if they're a synth."

"Well said," Desdemona purses her lips, "We'll do what we can to look into your missing boy. What do you need from us?"

I hold up the holotape Tinker Tom gave me. "Do you know what a Molecular Relay is?"

* * *

It's almost two weeks to the the day we met the Railroad. Since then, the Railroad's moved into Sanctuary to set down work on the Molecular Relay. MacCready and I have been going on missions to buy up whatever supplies Tinker Tom needs to build it.

Tinker Tom takes me aside one afternoon after a supplies run, takes me behind an abandoned house and says to me: "There's a flaw in Relay platform."

I raise an eyebrow, "what is it?"

"It's only going to take one person," he says. "That's about as much as the Relay can hold. So when you go into the Institute, you'll be alone."

I blink. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope," Tinker Tom shrugs. "That's the situation. I can get you to this Institute no sweat - it's you going alone that'll be the problem."

A nervous sweat runs down my back, the thought of the Institute scares me. The thought of going alone without MacCready behind me scares me more.

Tinker Tom tells me one more thing - The Relay will be fully operational by tomorrow morning. He said he can pull an all nighter on it tonight so it'll be ready to go.

 _I'm going to see Shaun tomorrow?_ My heart jumps to my throat. I rub my shoulders, and nod my head. "Thank you for telling me," I say in a hushed voice.

I avoid MacCready for the rest of the day, instead opting for staying inside my room and organizing my weapons for tomorrow morning. I set aside the guns I'll be taking, and make sure there's room for Mr. Bear to be squished in there.

In my haste of throwing everything out of my bag, I spot Nate's holotape sitting at the very bottom. I gasp softly when I see it, pulling it out with reverence. I flip the tape between my fingers, considering something. Without a word, I stuff it in my coat pocket, pull my backpack on, and walk up the hill towards the entrance of Vault 111.

When I get there, it's sundown. I settle down, sitting at the edge of the hill, my legs swinging back and forth. Vault 111's right behind me, Sanctuary's in front, the glow of the transporter illuminating the twilight sky.

Absentmindedly, I pull Nate's Hi Honey tape out of my coat pocket, and plop it into the Pip-boy. I just want to hear his voice again. I press the play button and listen to his words again. And I can't help but think what'd he do if he were here. He probably wouldn't even have to worry about taking the Institute by himself. He wouldn't have to worry about not feeling strong enough at _all_.

 _"...But everything we do no matter how hard,"_ Click. Rewinding _. "No matter how hard."_ Pause. Play _. "...We do it for our family. Now say goodbye Shaun. Bye bye, say bye bye. Bye honey, we love you."_ Click. Rewind. _"Bye honey, we love you-"_ Click. Rewind. _"We love you."_ Rewind. _"Love you."_ Rewind. _"Love you."_

"What are you doing?" I hear someone call.

I whip my head around so fast, it hurts, MacCready is standing a few yards away. "Nothing," I squeak.

MacCready walks over, stands above me. He looks around the place, pauses, then says: "Is that a Vault behind us?"

I look towards the horizon again. "Yes."

He pauses again. "It's not… Is this your Vault?"

I wipe my eyes, "Vault one-eleven." I affirm.

I hear him spin around on his heels, a bit of shuffling, and then he takes a seat next to me. He eyes my Pip-boy, "What are you doing up here by yourself, boss?"

I shrug.

"You okay?" He asks.

I stare at my hands, "MacCready, can I tell you something?"

He pauses, "sure."

I take a deep breath, tucking my hair behind my ears. "Okay. A few hours after Shaun was born," I pause, juggling how to say it. "There was this moment I had. The nurses left to check on another patient, Nate was getting his birth certificate figured out. And it was the first time I was alone with Shaun."

"And?"

I continue. "He was resting in my arms, and he looked so peaceful. And I just fell in love with him," I smile at the memory. "And I thought to myself in that moment - _I am going to do whatever it takes to make this kid happy_. I didn't care what I had to do to make it happen, I just knew I needed to." I glimpse briefly at him. "I can't think of anything else except that memory right now." I frown, biting my lip. "Did you feel that way when Duncan was born?"

He nods slowly, rubbing his neck. "I remember being mostly scared. I just wanted him to be safe." He looks down mournfully. "I guess I'm not that good at it."

My eyes widen, "Mac, no." I whisper. "I think you're doing great at it."

He's looking away. I go on, "You found him his cure. You left your home to pay for a better life for him. That _counts_ for something, MacCready."

"Maybe. I don't know anymore." He sighs. And then he grabs my hand, without a word. I wonder briefly if I'd take that hand if it belonged to anyone other than MacCready. I squeeze it, reaffirming I'm here. So we sit like that, not looking at eachother, but holding hands all the same. Then after a few minutes he says, "what were you listening to?"

I shrug sadly, "It doesn't matter."

He doesn't push it out of me, he lets it rest. "I heard the relay is only going to take one person."

He's confusing me, how he's changing the subject so much. I shake my head, "Why'd you come up here?"

It's dark, but I swear I can see him blushing. "Clarke … Elenora … Listen, in case you don't …. I wanted to tell you…"

I wait. I don't push him.

"It's suicide," he blurts out. "We're both thinking it. One of us might as well say it, Suicide if I go, suicide if you go. Maybe we should just accept what we've already known this whole time."

I frown, pulling my hand away to pull off the sniper rifle hooked around my shoulder. "Save this for me. I'm going to use it when I get back, and I imagine there's not going to be a lot of far range combat." I scooched over to my backpack, pulling out Mr. Bear.

"Are you even listening to me?" He demands.

"Are you listening to yourself? I shoot back, "MacCready, he's the only family I've got left." I say. "There's only one way into the Institute, and that's the way Shaun took. You can't go, and I have to. And there's only one way it's happening - _alone_."

I stand up, frankly because it's not the conversation I want to have right now. He stands up too, grabbing my arm; I yank it back.

Before I can call him out on it, he says: "I know… I know you have to. This is your Med-Tek, Clarke." His voice is uncommonly soft.

I mellow, nodding my head. I really don't know what to say to that. What can I say to that? He understands where I'm coming, and I feel too sick and nervous about tomorrow to think of what else to say him besides: "I guess it is."

He tilts his head, like he's considering something, then he speaks. "C'mere." He pulls me into a hug, arms wrapped around me, nose digging into my shoulder. At first I'm surprised, but then I wonder if it's why he came up here - to comfort. The nerves, the fear, it all begins to bubble to the surface. I begin to shake, my nails dig into his shoulders as I pull him closer.

"Thank you, MacCready." I murmur.

I pull away from him, giving him a small nod. Taking a deep breath, I adjust the straps on my backpack, take my sniper rifle and head back down to Sanctuary.

As I settle down in my old bedroom, crawling into bed, I lie awake and think about how tomorrow will go.

I pull out Nate's dog tags and press it against my heart. No more guilt. No more grief. I will trade my self-pity for hate. My guilt for cunning. My grief for the spirit of vengeance. Tomorrow, the Institute is going down, and it's going to be at the hands of an angry-as-hell, ecotone turned, suburban mother.

* * *

Next morning, by the time I wake up, Tinker Tom has finished. He's doing last minute adjustments as I'm adjusting the straps on my backpack in nervousness.

"Booting up the scan sequence." He tells. "This frequency is only going to work once. You-Know-Who doesn't make the same mistake twice." Tom taps wildly at the keyboard. I'm about to step on, when I remember something very important - My eyes widen in realization. "I'll be right back!" I cry, stepping away from the platform and running towards my home.

I throw open the door to the house, heading left into the hallway to the master bedroom. I find him exactly where I left him - Mr. Bear at the foot of my bed. _Can't believe I almost forgot you_. In the same moment, I hear MacCready's footsteps padding through the hall. "Elle? What are you -" He steps inside the room to find me zipping open my already stuffed-to-the-brim backpack. I don't even turn around to greet him, grabbing the stuffed animal's arm, trying to stick him in to no avail.

He comes around to the side, observing me do it. "Maybe you shouldn't take him," MacCready says.

"Maybe you should shut up," I mutter, pushing Mr. Bear's head down into his stomach and tugging the zipper closed.

He frowns as I tug the straps over my shoulders. "Okay. Now I'm ready," I confirm stepping into the hall. He follows.

"If I'm not back from the Institute in twenty-four hours," I tell him passing through the kitchen, "assume I'm dead and destroy the transporter. I don't want them finding Sanctuary or anybody here. And if I am dead -"

" _Clarke_." He says, grabbing my arm and tugging me to a stop.

"I'm not finished," I say.

"I know what to do," he says. "And you won't die."

I shake my head vehemently. "Remember what happened in the Glowing Sea. Remember what coming after me cost. Some things you have to let go, MacCready. Some things -"

He grabs my face in both hands and kisses me hard on the lips. I didn't expect it, and when he breaks off the kiss I realize from the look on his face that he hadn't expected it either.

It takes a moment for him to get his brain functioning again. "You're not gonna die," he finally says. "It'd take an army to crack your resolve."

I blink. "RJ MacCready," I say astounded. "That is the greatest compliment I think I've ever gotten."

"You are coming back," he says assuredly. His hands on my shoulders, my hands on his hips.

"You think I'm not ready to die?" I think I meant it as a joke. Maybe I didn't.

His response is immediate and fierce. "I know you're not."

I blink, looking down. "Time to go, then."

"Time to go."

Our eyes meet. There's nothing left to say. There's a thousand things left to say. I gently pull away from him. Stepping away, out of my home, walking towards the platform.

"So stand still!" Tinker Tom tells me as I walk towards it. "Gotta lock in all those molecules of yours. Hopefully we won't miss any! There's only, _you know_ , 60 trillion of them?"

 _"Tom."_ Desdemona scolds.

"Oh wait, I almost forgot!" He says, running up to me, holding a holotape in his hands. I grab it without question, then he races back to the controls. "Just plug that into any computer and it'll scan the whole goddamn network. Smart, right? Yeah!"

Desdemona rolls her eyes and shouts over the whir of the machines, "It's going to help you contact a man we have on the inside."

"You _have_ someone on the inside?" I ask.

"His name is Patriot," she makes a face. "Or her. We don't know. The point is, when you plug this holotape into a computer, it's going to scan the system and let them know the Railroad's made contact. Find Patriot, and you'll have an ally."

"-Alright!" Tinker Tom interrupts. "Feeding our baby some juice! Let's see what she's got!"

I step onto the platform, into the relay, I know what's going to happen. I know I'm going to die. My time's been borrowed and you can't cheat death forever. Sooner or later, you have to pay up, with interest, only please don't let Shaun be the price for letting me live this long. So I say to God, _you took Nate for the debt. You took my parents, my sister. That's enough, let that be enough. Take me but let Shaun be alive. Let him be safe._

"Do whatever you can to gain the Institute's trust! Lie, tell them what they want to hear. Make up a cover story and sell it." Desdemona says.

"Cmon! I think I got it…" Tinker Tom goes on. "Establishing lock on the Institute's signal-"

I lock eyes with MacCready. I lift my hand slightly, waving a goodbye. He waves back. _Bye, Elenora._

 _Bye, RJ._

"-Just get all the information you can. About synths, about Institute plans. Find their weaknesses. If we can disable or destroy the Institute, we may have to take it." Desdemona says over the shrill of the mechanics clicking and whirring. "You jack that holotape into an terminal, and Patriot will make contact. He has to."

 _I know it's done. I know the bill's come due. Just let me save him first, please God, suffer him not to die._

"Got the RF! Got it! Okay-"

"Find a way to save them, nobody else can-"

" _NOW_!"

The relay is activated, the world goes white, then there's nothing, nothing at all.


	18. Humanity's Best Interest

_ZZZ-AA-P!_

The relay's light burst, and in a flash, I'm not in Sanctuary anymore. It takes a moment for my vision to clear, and there's a mean headache I'm beginning to sport. When my eyesight clears, I see I'm in a weird metal circle with an entrance leading outwards. It's hard to tell what it is, but whatever it is, it must be the Institute.

I stumble, gasping softly that it worked. Looking down in my hand, I see the holotape Desdemona gave me. I step into the next room, completely empty. I pull out the 10mm and search for something, anything. I'm surprised there's not an army of synths guarding the entrance, or a wall of turrets guarding the relay. I shakily flip the tape back and forth between my fingers. Nervousness seeps into terror as I anticipate what could come. Depending on what's out there, I could be dead in an hour.

 _Okay, Elenora. Not done yet. Not until you have Shaun._

I notice the computer in the middle of the room immediately, moving fast, I stick Desdemona's holotape into a port. The network scan begins and beeps when it's done. I stick it in my pocket. Hopefully, there's something in there worth looking into.

I move forward, one hand clutching my gun and other squeezing Nate's dog tags. I squeeze the dog tags so tight, that when I open up my hands, my husband's name is imprinted on my palm.

Just then, a voice speaks, reserved and polite, over some PA box. "Hello. I wondered if you might make it here. You're quite resourceful."

I stop in my tracks, raising my gun. "Who is that?"

"I am known as Father; the Institute is under my guidance. And I know why you're here. I'd like to discuss things with you, face-to-face."

I frown, "You know why I'm here? You know where my baby is?"

The voice hesitates. "Please, step into the elevator."

Ahead, a small circular plate with glass walls await. "This will take me to him?" I ask. No answer. Terrified, and with nowhere else to go, I step inside as the glass cylinder slides around me. I feel the plate descend, encasing me in darkness.

"I can only imagine what you've heard, what you think of us." The voice comes back.

Murderers. Kidnappers. The whispered threat that always remains constant. I have more than a few thoughts about them.

"I'd like to show you that you may have the wrong impression," he says, as the elevator descends.

I come into the light. And I see. I'm shell-shocked by the way the Institute looks. Green trees, pre-war tech, clean, purified water flowing in the center of it all.

I always pictured the Institute in the likes of human cattle stockades: dead-eyed crowds of malnourished people in small gray cells. A nightmare of dehumanization. Yet somehow, this picturesque nightmare version seems worse. If Sanctuary was heaven pretending to be my personal Hell, this place seems like Hell masquerading as Heaven.

"This is the reality of the Institute. This place, these people, the work we do. For over a hundred years, we've dedicated ourselves to humanity's survival. Decades of research, countless experiments and trials...A shared vision of how science can help shape the future. It has never been easy, and our actions are often misinterpreted by those above ground."

People notice the elevator sliding down. I get looks from them as the platform slides down. "What we have done in the past, and what we will continue to do, is _necessary_. Someday, perhaps, we can show them what we've accomplished. But for now, we must remain underground," the man pauses. "There's too much at stake here to risk it all. As you've seen, things above are… unstable."

The elevator comes to its destination, sliding open again.

"I'd like to talk to you about what we can do... for everyone," the man on the PA box says. "But that can wait. You are here for a special reason…. You are here for your son."

My heart rises to my throat, my palms feel sweaty. I stuff Nate's dog-tags in my pocket, moving forward. I'm trying to remain calm about the whole thing - and I'm already thinking how I'm going to get him out of here. I sincerely doubt the relay will work for me again, that machine Tom built looked like a one-way ride... Once I get Shaun - _If I get him_ \- where the hell are we going to go?

I shuffle down the corridor. At the final turn, there's an elevator.

And there it is, straight ahead. A few more yards and I'm there.

Up, up, up the elevator shaft. The door slides open.

 _I made it, Shaun. I'm here. Now you be here._

And it's like he heard me, because there he is, in a glass cage, like some science experiment. My heart leaps and my blood boils, and _there he is._

I lower my head. There is a lump the size of Massachusetts stuck in my throat. He doesn't turn around, he doesn't even notice me. He's just sitting there.

 _Is it okay now? Is this it?_ "Shaun?" I must sound funny to him with my voice cracking.

He turns in head slightly and stands up. "Huh? Yes, I'm Shaun…"

Tears pool in my eyes, I cup a hand around my mouth, "Oh my… Is it really you?"

He frowns. "Who are you?"

"Shaun, it's me," I say. "I'm… I'm your mom."

He tilts his head, "Father? What's going on?"

 _Father? Whose…? No, stay focused, Elenora. Just get him out of here, questions later._ "Shaun, are you okay?" I ask. An unthinkable thought crosses my mind. "They didn't _hurt_ you did they?"

He backs into the corner behind the glass. "Father!"

I was getting a little discouraged. And slightly annoyed. I wanted him with me now. "Shaun… Just, I'll explain later!" I go to the door. Locked. "Can you open the door, Shaun? Can you - " I stop, startling myself because I get a glimpse of what I look like reflecting back in the glass. Wild eyes, wounds on my face, my hair's a tangled mat. Crazy. Mad. _Savage_. No wonder he wants to get away from me.

"Shaun I-" I set my weapons on the ground, kicking them away. "I'm not here to hurt you, I promise, I just want to talk-"

And from the other side of the glass, a voice no louder than a mouse squeak: "I don't _know_ you!"

That hit something deep. "Okay, okay, okay," I whimper, trying to get a hold on my feelings. "Shaun, I can explain, okay honey? I'll explain everything, it's just not safe right now, it's not safe _here_ …"

A door zooms open and his shadow fills the space, out steps a man with silvery white hair, tall, lean. Crisp, starched clothes. A white lab coat that's actually white. He steps into the room, looking at Shaun. And the man says:

"Shaun. Recall line S-29 code: Cirrus."

Shaun's arms go limp, his eyes go glassy, his head drops like he's a rag doll.

My jaw drops, "What did you do to my baby?" I whisper.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" He says. "But ultimately disappointing. The child's responses were not at all what we were expecting -"

I feel my holster for the gun, but it's empty. I kicked all of my weapons away trying to comfort Shaun. What could I use, A teddy bear? What was I going to do with that? Snuggle the dude to death?

He raises his arms in defense, "He's a prototype, you understand. We're only now exploring the effects of extreme emotional stimuli." He says. "I understand you are emotional, but please try to keep an open mind. Let's start anew - I am Father. Welcome to the Institute."

"I could kill you," I say, sounding surprisingly confident despite holding no weapons. "Right here, right now."

"You could," he says, "And I would be powerless to stop you."

 _Why isn't he fighting?_ I look at the old man and the younger. "I just want to figure out what's going on here," I say exasperated.

"You will. You have traveled very far and suffered a great deal to find your son. Well, your tenacity and dedication have been rewarded… It's good to finally meet you after all of this time." He smiles hesitantly and raises his arms slightly. "It's me. I am Shaun. I am… your son."

I'd hate to see the look on my face when he said that. Something in my mind clicks, _how could you have not seen it when he came in?_ Nate's brown eyes, my skin. Something in him is recognizable.

Here, in this form, as an old man. Here, in the belly of the beast at the bottom of the world, standing right in front of me.

Shaun Katczinsky Clarke.

And Elenora Marilyn Clarke, having a full-bore-out-of-body experience, seeing herself, seeing him. The last time she saw him was behind the glass of cryo pod, and then, only a bundle of moving blanket, and the only times that she's seen him since happened in her mind, the rational part wondering if he truly was dead like everyone else.

"Y- You're Shaun?"

"I really am."

Those first few moments between me and him were very strange.

I blink again, looking the old man up and down. My mouth feels dry. Then I fumble with the zip on my backpack.

"I, um, I thought you might you might want this back."

I hold out the battered old teddy bear toward him.

He hesitantly takes it, holding it in his hands, examining the ratty old thing. "What's this?" he says, weirded out.

There's a squeamish feeling in my stomach, "it was yours when you were a baby, I thought…" I shrug. "I actually have no idea what I thought. But your grandma brought it for you when you were born, and I thought maybe you'd still want it, and of course it's not in that bad of condition, so you could have enjoyed it… But when I thought of you, I thought you'd be... ten…" I ramble on.

His eyebrows are raised, his lips pursed. He examines the bear. "His ear is a little ripped," he points out like I've shirked a duty. Maybe I have, Mr. Bear been looking a little worse for wear, despite my effort. The darn thing's got more stitches in him than Frankenstein.

Both of us are taking the other in. Examining one another, looking each other up and down.

Hesitantly, I raise a single hand, lifting it to his face. For a moment, I wonder if he'll let me touch him. I brush my fingers on his cheek, looking at his eyes for confirmation it was him.

"You're…"

He sets Mr. Bear down on the nearest table. "Old?"

I shake my head. "Here," I correct, my mood suddenly shifting. Something in me snaps. Like a light switch turning on. Like the understanding became reality and the reality was I finally _found_ him. I wrap my arms around him and pull him into me. "You're here," I stroke his white hair. He doesn't make an effort to hold me back, other than a slight pat on the back.

"I'm here," he says, confusion in his voice.

"Let me look at you!" I say, pulling out of the hug. I bring a hand to his face, rubbing his cheek with my thumb. His eyes are brown. "Oh, kiddo," I murmur. "You've got your dad's eyes."

He smiles uncomfortably, "Well-" he says,

"And his nose, too!" I laugh, tapping his nose, something like a sob forming in my throat. "That's kind of a shame," I try to joke. "I was hoping you'd look more like me. You've got my skin, though, that's something."

"We'll have to discuss that later," he says, rubbing his nose, taking a step away from me. "Right now, there's more important things to discuss. I'm sure you have questions, and I'd like to answer them for you."

"Yes, of course, I have questions," I say. "But can't they wait? I found you, isn't that what's important?" I grab his hands, tugging him towards the elevator. "C'mon, there's so many people I want you to meet, now quickly, let's -"

"Mother," Shaun says, slipping his hands away from mine. "I can't possibly leave."

I laugh nervously, "Of course you can." He gives me a look. "Can't you?"

Shaun sighs and steps back from me. My heart feels heavy, "Shaun… I, I want to take you _home_."

He tilts his head, "This _is_ my home." He says matter-of-factly. "That's the reality. I was raised by the Institute, and now I'm its leader."

What?

"I know you must have questions," he says peacefully, with a nod of his head. "Please, anything I can do to help you understand."

I shake my head, "Shaun…" I trail. "You're their leader? But, but all of the kidnappings, the fear-mongering… Surely you couldn't have been behind that."

"What you call fear-mongering," he says, "we call breakthroughs."

"Okay," I say, it doesn't sit right with me. "Okay, I don't want to fight. It's just… a lot to take in. Seeing you like this… How is this even possible, how long have you been out of the Vault?

"In the Vault, you had no concept of the passage of time. You were released from your pod and went searching for the son you'd lost. But then you learned that your son was no longer an infant, but a ten-year-old boy. You believed that ten years had passed. Is it really so hard to accept that it was not ten, but sixty years?"

I stand there, realization washing over. "I missed your entire life," I say emptily. "Oh, kiddo," I murmur. "I'm so sorry."

"It doesn't matter. It's irrelevant," he says. "It was _necessary._ The Institute believed humanity's future depended on it. What they wanted was the perfect machine. It drove them ever onward. So they followed the best example - the human being. Walking, talking, fully articulate. Capable of anything. The Institute endeavored to create synthetic organics. The most logical starting point, of course, was human DNA. Plenty of that was available, but it had all become corrupted. In this… wasteland… radiation affected everyone. Another source was necessary."

The word just falls out, "you."

"Yes. An infant, frozen in time, protected from the radiation-induced mutations that had crept into every other human cell in the Commonwealth. I was exactly what they needed. And so it was my DNA that became the basis of the synthetic organics used to create every human-like synth that you see today. I am their Father. Through science, we are family. The synths, me and you."

I stand, shaking in front of my son. I look back towards the elevator, then back at him. "This is so much…"

He nods, "And I understand that. But we stand here on the brink of some remarkable breakthroughs. Your presence would be appreciated as we approach them. I've been a part of something amazing here. I've helped to build a life for myself and the people of the Institute."

"My presence? You want me here with you?"

"Of course," he says. "After all these years, you have an opportunity to help with my life's work. Doesn't that intrigue you? Isn't that what you want?"

I smile weakly, "Yeah, of course. I'll always want to be there for you but…" I bite my lip. "Shaun, don't you know who these people are? What they've done to you, to me? They left you fatherless, me a widow…" I trail off. "You want to help a cause that would do that to people?"

"What happened to my father was… I've gone over the records of the incident, of course. I can assure you, what happened to him was an unfortunate bit of collateral damage."

I stifle some sort of noise in the back of my throat. "It was _murder,_ Shaun."

He shakes his head, "What matters now is that you and I have a chance to begin again. I'm simply asking that you give the Institute… Me… A chance. We really do have humanity's best interest at heart. Will you take that chance?"

I hesitate. "Okay. I'll give you that," I whisper.

Maybe I imagine it, but I swear he gives some breath of relief. "Thank you," he says, launching into his next speech. "And the Institute is as much your home as it is mine, make use of it however you wish, and I'd love for you to meet the people you'll be working with -" He says, taking a step towards me.

I move back, and the action seems to have offended him. "Hold on," I say. My mind's still trying to get a grip on the situation. "Just, give me a moment, okay? I - I have to get back to Sanctuary soon. I promised a friend I'd be back soon."

"Oh," he says. Then, with a little less emotion. "Of course. You can make all the preparations necessary for living here. In the meantime, I could always prepare a living quarters for you, if it'd be satisfactory."

I smile weakly, "Okay." I back away, "I should go. But, I'll… I'll be back, okay?"

I turn heel, looking my gaze on the child prototype before leaving. I pick up my guns, and I'm practically running out of the room, into the elevator. I almost swear I can hear Shaun say behind me, "Goodbye, mother" as I leave.

I press the elevator closed and ride down. As I travel back up to the relay room, I can't help but feel like I've made some horrible sort of mistake agreeing to be with him.

Back into the relay room, I transport back to Sanctuary.

Upon arriving back, I find it's night. Which makes me question just exactly how long I was gone. The Railroad's forces aren't here anymore, they might have left for HQ already - which - thank goodness for, otherwise I'd have to tell them about Shaun.

Shaun. The old man. Shaun: The leader of the Institute. I.E, the Railroad's biggest threat. If I tell them, I can only imagine what they'd have me do.

I whip my head around, wondering where MacCready was. Perhaps he's left too, left for the Capital Wasteland before I could give him a proper goodbye. Or maybe he already had and that's what that nonsense from before was all about. In his mind, maybe I already have Shaun.

I move towards my home, feeling as if something heavy were pressing on my heart, the same sensation I had right after MacCready told me he was leaving, a grief that had actually weighed on my heart and lungs.

The home is empty and cold. I move into the hallway, into the abandoned nursery. Seeing the broken crib and all the toys I left scattered on the floor for when we could make a life again. I shudder and leave the room.

Outside, in the hallway, I sank down the wall and drew my knees to my chest ducked my head, and covered it up with my arms. I plug my ears, I close my eyes.

Well, I was wrong: MacCready did come in. He sat against the wall next to me. Said nothing. Just slid down against the wall, hands in his lap, sitting cross-legged.

My head falls back against the wall, I look over at him, the tears welling up in my eyes. He takes my hand and grips it tightly. I return the pressure, sniffing.

"Do you remember when I told about the day Shaun was born?" I mumble.

"Yeah."

"Remember when I told you all I could think about was how much I loved him, and how I swore I was gonna make him happy?" I look away from him. "Such _bullshit_. All I was thinking about was how much I was going to mess him up, or how much of a terrible mother I was going to be. You know how many damn parenting books I read?"

MacCready stays quiet, lets me go on.

"Well, I didn't have to have to be the one to mess him up," I mutter. "Institute beat me to it."

He squeezes my hand tighter, "what happened?"

I shake my head. And then break out into heart-wrenching sobs. I can't help it; I've never felt so heartbroken in my life. And it's more than I can handle.

I fall against Mac, gulping air, my face digging into his shoulder. He pulls me in tight into his arms and strokes my hair.

And I let him. I'm too weak, too confused, too empty and miserable to do anything else but let him hold me.

It's always going to be this way. I know that now. That's just what life is now; You bear the unbearable. You endure the unendurable. You live on until you yourself are not living.

One hand wrapped around my shoulder, the other rubbing my back. "What happened in there?" He asks. "Shaun's… He's…"

I'm totally gone by that point, giving into everything I bottled up, sobbing like I've never cried before. I cover my face with my hands, trying to muffle the sounds. "Oh, Mac." I cry, "He's old now. He's older than me, and he's so _far gone_."

"He's gone? What do you -"

"He's not _at_ the Institute, he's _leading_ the Institute."

MacCready's grip on me tightens, doesn't even say a word, just holds me tighter.

"I'm such an idiot," I go on. "I should've known, _goddamn it_ , what's wrong with me-"

"Hey, shhh, don't talk like that…"

I adjust my head enough so my ear is pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. There's a long stretch of silence between us - just the sound of insects outside, the wind whistling and MacCready's heartbeat. I don't know how long we stayed like that, wrapped up in each other but eventually I break the silence.

"I guess you're going to leave soon."

I can't bear to look up at him, I just keep my ear on his chest - I could've sworn I felt the rhythm break. "Elle…" He sighs.

"It was a part of the deal," I murmur, rubbing a piece of his shirt fabric between my thumb and forefinger. "You shouldn't have stayed this long anyway."

He sighs, long and deep. "Clarke, listen -"

I shake my head, I don't want to listen. I pull away from him, rubbing my eyes. Wiping my nose with the back of my hand, I push myself up. He stands too, we're standing nose to nose now in the small hallway. "You can't tell the others about this, you have to keep it a secret," I say. "If the Railroad knew… If the Minutemen knew, I can't imagine what they'd make me…" I shudder. "I have to protect him from that, don't I? It's my job to, I don't know… I just-"

"I'm not gonna say anything, boss." He says. "It's your business, anyways. Nobody else should get involved in it."

I nod solemnly, sighing in relief. "Thank you, MacCready." I take a step back, "what time is it?"

"Quarter after midnight. Railroad asked you to head to HQ when you were done, they didn't know how long you'd be in there. And I told Preston I'd take watch… When I heard the relay, I… Well, you know the rest."

I fold my arms around myself, "I can't believe… This day has been unreal."

MacCready nods, "glad you're back in one piece."

I huff, "yeah, me too."

He hesitates, taking a deep breath. "I should get back to watch."

He turns his heels and takes a few steps away. My voice gets caught in my throat, "Mac?" I call, weakly, softly.

He turns, "yeah?"

I blink, balancing on my heels. "Will you stay with me?" I ask. I see the look on his face. "I don't want anything, I just don't want to be alone right now."

He relaxes. "I don't want to be alone, either."

A few moments later, I'm climbing into my bed, tugging the blankets over me. MacCready stands awkwardly in the doorway. I ask, "aren't you getting in?"

"Oh," he says dumbly. "Yeah, right."

He lays on the opposite side of the bed, practically on the edge of it, not even getting in the covers. I felt superhumanly aware of his presence. We laid there together, as far apart as we could be in that stupid bed.

I clutch the blankets in my hands, taking a breath. "What am I gonna tell the Railroad?" I murmur.

I see him shrug - or try to while laying down. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"This whole thing is a mess," I whisper.

He chuckles softly too, "that's putting it lightly." He says. "Who knew traveling with you would be such a pain in the a… _erg_ , butt?"

I smile gently, "certainly gave you a run for your money."

"No shit," he slips out. He cups a hand around his mouth. "Crap."

Despite the events of the day, I laugh. It's short, but I do. "Thank you for staying with me," I say.

"Oh," he says, turning his head to face me. "Yeah, anytime. I mean. If you need it."

I turn my head too. "Goodnight, Mac."

He softens, flips on his side. We're nose to nose. "Night, Elle."

I stare at him for a long time, biting my lip. He stares back. There's some sort of impulse running through me, to close the gap, but after what happened today with Shaun, and knowing it's not going to last - he'll be leaving soon, I decide against it. I flip over and curl away from him.

"See you in the morning."


	19. Two Steps Back

It had been a week after I come back from the Institute, I'd spent most of my time in Sanctuary helping the Minutemen with repairs and settlers coming in.

Helping settlers, however, was least of my worries. Today was the day before MacCready left. I had nothing, no idea on what to do next, and I was constantly, _painfully_ on the alert that MacCready was leaving.

I was completely out of ideas, too. Completely giving up on trying to convince him to stay, and drained from the stress of not coming back to the Institute after I promised, I didn't know what to do.

So, admitting defeat, I decided to not let him leave without something good.

It takes some convincing from Preston, but eventually I get him to talk to MacCready.

"What do you even want me to tell him?" Preston asks me.

"Tell him to go on a scavenging trip. One that'll take all day," I tell him. "You're in charge here, he'll listen to you."

Half an hour later, MacCready left on Sanctuary's bridge on a mission to get a biometric scanner, complaining all the way.

After he's gone I get to work - and recruit Codsworth for help. With his help, I buy out half of Trashcan Carla's food supplies - Blamco mac-and-cheese, funnel cake mix, salted Brahmin meat I could cook down even in the winter. She's even got some crops, packed in snow so they're still fresh. I buy carrots and tatos.

Once I have my haul, Codsworth and I run back to my home, groceries in arms.

"Mum," Codsworth asks me as I spill out the groceries over the kitchen counter. "Do you know how to cook?"

"Not really," I say. "You?"

He scoffs like he can feel pride. "General atomics finest can whip up anything you ask of it!"

"Then we'll figure it out," I tell him. "Time for dinner."

I pay Mama Murphey a couple caps to keep watch for when MacCready came back, then once it's squared away, we begin working.

I fill the air with Diamond City Radio as Codsworth and I cook. We move in unison, working together, dividing the labor among ourselves. I tell Codsworth what to chop, what to boil, and he follows the instructions without hesitation. I can't help but imagine a normality in all of it: It's a regular day, Codsworth is helping with dinner, and MacCready's going to come home in a few hours to a nice surprise. Everything is in a good place. And I want to believe that this can always be true. My heart wants to make it true, even as something darker tugs it away.

It's past seven by the time we're finished. Codsworth assembles the food on the dining table, while I grab some candles from the hallway closet.

"Shall I set the table, ma'am?" Codsworth asks, gesturing to the dining room.

I flick a lighter over a candle wick, "Yeah, that'd be great."

The candles are set and the food is prepared. Just in time too, because Mama Murphy opens my front door, and hobbles in. "I saw him on the horizon, he's coming!"

"How'd you know it was him?" I ask.

"You could hear him complaining a mile away," she explains.

I turn back to Codsworth, who's alright whirring into the room, "Right-o! Shall I help serve supper, mum?"

"No," I tell him. "I want to be the one to do it."

"He'll be here soon," Mama Murphy says.

I turn to Codsworth, smoothing my clothes with my hands, tucking my hair behind my ears. "How do I look?"

Codsworth gestures with an arm motor, "practically perfect, mum!" I ignore the voice in my head telling me he's programmed to say stuff like that.

I shoo them out and wait in the kitchen until he comes in. I fiddle with my hands, I teeter on my heels - then, footsteps at the door. "Clarke," he begins, swinging the door open. "Your Preston friend is crazy-" Then he looks at everything and his jaw drops. "Holy fu - _frick_." He drops his backpack in shock. All the anger in him seems to flow off. "What is this?"

I shrug, walking over to him. "It's something I made to celebrate our last night together in the Commonwealth."

"This is…" He trails, looking at the table filled with food, looking me in the eyes. "Nobody's ever done anything like this for me before."

His eyebrows seem to fly off his face and I smile because he's hardly ever speechless like this. I escort him over, scooting him into a seat.

I take a seat next to him as his eyes are searching the table wildly, looking at all the food. He goes for the mac-and-cheese and starts loading up his plate with all the food we prepared, stopping in-between thank you's.

Once he's all loaded up, he looks at me, eyebrows cocked in question. "Is this what that whole biometric scanner thing was about?"

"Yeah," I say. "I needed you out of sanctuary for a while."

He chuckles under his breath, "This - wow. It's gonna be a while before I wipe this smile off my face."

I grin, "good. You needed at least one good meal before you left. I mean - kind of good. I don't know how to cook all that well, Codsworth had to help."

He looks up at me and pauses. "Why do you this stuff for me?" He asks quietly.

"Everybody needs to eat."

"No," he says. "I mean - why _me_? I haven't done anything like this for _you_."

That makes me stop. "I know you're leaving, and I know… _Why_ you're leaving. But I just… I wanted to end on a nice note."

He frowns, and goes back to his food. It's pretty quiet for the next couple minutes, and then he says suddenly, "It's just because of Duncan, Clarke."

"I'm not trying to stop you, Mac," I say. "Besides… Being back with Duncan is something that you've wanted for forever, so…. I shouldn't stop you." Even as I say it, I'm trying to convince myself to believe it.

Dinner continues - and it's not rushed anymore. We let the moment sink in as the minute's pass. I light more candles and enjoy being with him.

"What?" he asks, realizing I've been looking at him.

I hesitate, but I lean over and kiss him.

I want to remember how it feels to be with him in this way. I want to remember before it's all gone forever. MacCready kisses me back, his hands tracing my shoulders.

After a moment, we break away. And I stare at him for a long time. "Don't go," I finally say, my voice a broken whisper.

"Clarke…"

"Stay," I grab his hands. "Please."

"I can't."

I'm squeezing his hands tighter. "Mac… I did some shit that I'm not proud of, but… But I'm trying. Okay?" I say. "I'm _trying_."

His face softens, "Elle-" he shakes his head. "My kid needs me."

He must've to know how well that would've worked on me. My heart breaks because - what if the roles were switched? I'd know what I'd choose. There's not even a debate for it. I let go of his hands, sitting back straight in my chair. "Okay," I murmur.

I take my fork again and play with the food on my plate. Long, impossibly long minutes stretch on. And I just couldn't stand it anymore. I put my fork down, and throw the napkin on the table. I stand up quickly, "sorry, I think I lost my appetite," I say. And then I'm practically running towards my room. I don't hear from him for the rest of the night.

The next day is agony.

I'm trying very hard to stay composed. There's a threshold MacCready will cross once he leaves. Not physically; not the land that borders the Commonwealth - a different one. One that he will not come back from.

I walk him over to the bridge at Sanctuary. "You have enough water to keep you until you reach Goodneighbor?" I ask.

"Yep," he says. "Stocked up."

I nod, bouncing on the heels on my feet, arms crossed, looking everywhere but at him. "So you just gonna hitch a caravan back home, or…?"

"I'll see what Daisy's got," he says. "Worse case scenario, I walk. It's just a week's journey."

I nod. I stand awkwardly at the bridge. Don't want to leave, don't have an excuse to stay. "No plan," I murmur. "Nothing fated."

"No meant-to-be, right?" He replies.

"Guess not," I say. I meet his eyes, and I wish I didn't. I look away quickly. That's all we said. Then we just stood there.

I don't want to love him. I don't want to be in love.

People take love for granted. They don't realize that the best thing about love is its regular presence. Once you can establish that, it's an added foundation to your life. But if you cannot have that regular presence, then what can you have? Nate died and the foundation was gone. But this is worse. MacCready is consciously choosing to leave me. It's his choice, it's not out of his control. He is not being forced back into a cryo pod, he is not screaming, he is not being shot in the heart.

Everything that is happening now is a choice.

"Be safe on the road," I tell him. "No use to Duncan if you don't make it back safe."

MacCready nods, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. "I will."

I remember him leaving, I don't remember saying goodbye to him.

MacCready, on the road, shrinking.

MacCready, leaving Sanctuary.

 _Bye, RJ._

He's getting smaller and smaller until the horizon swallows them and I'm alone.

I didn't waste any time getting back to the Institute after that. I fill my backpack with some clean clothes, took a few books, and some other supplies, and use the relay to transport over.

I enter the relay room. I take the elevator down. Passing through that empty corridor, I go up one more elevator shaft and pass through a room before I find Father again.

At first, he's unaware. He's staring out a glass window, observing the Institute below. I walk up quietly, hesitantly putting a hand on his shoulder.

He jumps, and when he sees it's me he's still tense. "Mother," he says. "I see you've returned."

I smile weakly, "Hey, sweetie." I say. Calling him sweetie feels weird in my mouth, like I haven't earned a right to call him that yet. I'll have to stick to Shaun for a while. "I got held up for a while after I got back, sorry to keep you waiting."

He pivots his body enough to shake my hand off. "I've been keeping busy, it's no trouble." There's a slight sense of disappointment in his voice, though, reminding me it probably _was_ trouble.

I rub my hands together, "Well, you don't have to worry about me leaving soon. Promised you I'd stay, didn't I?"

The corners of his mouth tug slightly upwards. "It is good to see wanting to help in our work." He says fondly, he moves to face me completely. "While you were away, I had quarters prepared for you. You'll find all the basic necessities you'll need, go and have a look I think you'll be quite pleased."

I nod, looking at my feet. My mind's scattered, and I'm still thinking of a bridge and a man leaving. "Hey, Shaun?"

"Yes, Mother?"

"I just wanted to say…" I shrug. "I'm happy to be here. With you. I'm glad we have each other."

A smile creeps on the old man's face. "I'm pleased that you are, Mother."

I smile weakly, "Walk your old lady to her quarters?" I hold my arm out, and he hesitantly links it around mine and takes me over.

On the way, he says: "Calling you old lady would be highly contemptuous considering your age."

"Good compliment," I joke. He gives me a strange look. "Old lady is just another way to say 'mom'. Like how you would say 'old man' for your father."

"I wouldn't know that," Shaun says. Unfazed. Without emotion.

He drops me off at my room and allows me to enter. Before he closes the door he says, "I'd like to have breakfast with you tomorrow morning. We could finally... talk about everything and maybe I could show you around the Institute."

I smile. "That'd be great, son."

He hesitates at the door for a moment longer and then turns to leave.

Then I'm alone in the room. My quarters are larger than my entire house back home. Sleek, with futuristic touches to it. There's a bed in the next room, and a shower in the next.

Curiously, I check the switches on the shower, and _holy shit_ , I am pleasantly surprised to see hot water is an option.

I take a shower, which felt amazing after a few weeks of grimy travel and living. When I step out, I find some clean clothes in the drawer. A white jumpsuit that's actually white. It's a little baggy, but I'd take it over being too small.

I curl up under the covers of the bed, viscerally aware of how clean it all was. And of how quiet it was. I'm reminded of something Mac used to say - "It's quiet out here. Too quiet. _Haw_ \- Oh man, I always wanted to say that!"

I want to get back to him. I want to get back to yesterday.


	20. Imagine Utopia

Everything ends. That is obvious. This is what MacCready knows as fact because this is has been his whole life: The inevitable, the catastrophe, the curtain falling. His whole life has been an example of this.

After he left Sanctuary, it takes MacCready less than a day to reach the city limits sign. Boston, dead ahead. And inside, Goodneighbor.

The night is falling. There is a radiation storm today. Electric green that makes the rest of the world look green too. He thinks about her eyes. He downs a few pills of Rad-X and keeps moving.

By the time he reaches Goodneighbor, the storm's died down a bit. He immediately heads for Daisy's store. She frowns slightly when she sees him walking up to her counter. "What's gotten into you?"

He groans and drops his backpack on her counter, rummaging through for things to sell, "Don't wanna talk about it, Dais."

Daisy is probably one of his few friends in the world - a number that is slowly dwindling. They might only be because nobody else wanted to be friends with them - they didn't have a choice. Naturally, as a ghoul, Daisy's gonna get hate. And him? Well, he's an asshole, Daisy is too, but they see the ghoul first.

Daisy purses her lips, "Well, shit. You wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

He flashes her a look and Daisy lets it go. MacCready goes through, sells all the junk and the pipe pistols Clarke made him carry around to eventually sell. At the bottom of his pack, he finds the toy alien she bought for him at Bunker Hill. He slaps that down on the table, too. He wants to gouge it all out. The memories, the gifts, _her_. It's too much right now.

At the bottom of his pack, there's one more thing from her - that charm necklace she made for him at Christmas. He almost forgot about it. The memories of that day spool around his mind again, and something in him tells him to hold onto it. When Daisy has turned around, he pulls the necklace over his head and tucks it under his shirt.

He discusses prices with her for a bit, sells what he doesn't need. Buys back, but only in ammo.

"What are you saving up for anyway?" Daisy eyes him, then says with a laugh: "You finally gonna take me on that date?"

Despite his sour mood, it's good to be reminded of their inside jokes. He smiles. "How could I say no to someone as cute as you, Daisy?"

She waves her hand in the hair, "Ah - such a lousy liar, but I'll play dumb. Why are you really selling all this?"

He hesitates but leans in, drumming his fingers on the counter. "You got any caravans heading back to the Capital Wasteland right now?" He whispers.

Daisy looks unimpressed, slapping a rag on the counter and rubbing away says: "Careful to raise your voice any louder - the _radroaches_ might hear you."

He leans back, grumbling. "Well, _do_ you?"

She pauses, and pulls out a worn away book under the counter. She flips to a page scribbled with times and dates and runs a finger down the spine. "Let's see - I've got one coming in about two days. They'll head back in three."

"Three days?" MacCready asks. "You don't have anything sooner?"

"You're certainly in a hurry to leave," Daisy points out.

He looks at his feet, muttering under his breath: "Yeah, well, let's just say I'm wearing out my welcome here."

Daisy closes her book and slides it underneath the counter again. She snaps her fingers and points. "Now I know what's missing." She says. "Where's that employer of yours, um, the one who helped with Duncan."

He pauses, "We split up."

"That was a long job for you," she points out.

"Yeah and now it's over," he replies coldly.

Daisy picks up on this, but she's careful to not mention it. "So you still taking the caravan?"

He rubs his bridge of his nose, "Yeah, fine."

Daisy leans forwards over the counter, staring him in the face. "So you finally go back to see him after all this time? You weren't planning to see him for the next couple _months_. What's up with the sudden need to leave?"

MacCready looks everywhere but her eyes. "I dunno - I just wanted to."

"You can't _afford_ to do things because you want to," Daisy accuses. "The hell is up with you?"

MacCready blushes, because he hates how she knows this. Daisy's eyes go big, "holy shit, it was that girl, wasn't it?"

MacCready denies it, but Daisy it just makes her laugh. "I guess it was a long job for you."

MacCready grabs his backpack off the counter, "shut up," he mumbles. But he's reminded himself that Daisy is one of the few friends he's got left, "See you tomorrow."

He heads down to the Third Rail. He's got enough money to pay for a caravan trip now, but right now, he really just wants a drink and to forget about the whole week.

He finds his spot in the VIP section is still empty - which he's grateful for. Glad Hancock hasn't occupied the space.

He can hear Magnolia beginning her set from beyond the room - and he takes a second to rest after walking for so long. He collapses on a couch, taking off his hat. He sighs, relaxing. Then, after a moment, he takes out Elenora's charm necklace. Throwing back a wave of guilt, he throws his backpack under the couch and heads back to the bar.

He slides a few caps over the counter and orders a beer. Magnolia's voice echoes over the bar, setting the mood for the night. MacCready's trying to keep his mind light - He's heading home in a few days. He's gonna see _Duncan_ again.

Somebody takes a seat next to him, he keeps his head down, but he notices how they reek of B.O and blood, he sneaks a glance and sees a burly man in dressed in something that is unmistakably Gunner.

He panics, and looks at the floor again, trying to hide his face. The squad he worked with - Winlock and Barnes is long dead by now, but he is _not_ taking chances.

There's an added buzz of noise in the bar now. He gets a glimpse of a couple other Gunners, filling the room. MacCready's heart feels like it will pound out of his chest and kill him right then, right there. He's uncomfortably aware of how loud his heart is beating and prays the Gunner next to him can't hear it.

He tries to think - he _has_ to think. He's a survivor, this is how he must operate. He needs to get his stuff first: his caps, his rifle, Lucy's soldier toy. It is all in that backpack and he will _not_ leave without it.

Casually, he slides his glass across the table and stands up, keeping his head down. He will not allow himself to look any of them in the eyes, that's practically suicide.

He shuffles to the VIP room, hands in his pockets, attempting to look bored. And in his attempt to remain anonymous, a gunner bumps into him. He feels like shrinking back when he sees that they've spilled their drink on them because of him. "Hey, what the hell man -" he begins, wiping the liquor off his shirt.

He doesn't need to act tough, he doesn't want a fight - he just wants to survive the next three days to make it on his caravan. He tries to move out of the way, but the Gunner is mad, and he's not letting him walk away. The Gunner, a very tall and thin man grabs his shirt collar. "You're _paying_ for this."

MacCready frowns, "Chill out, okay? It was an accident."

The man calls at the burly man at the bar, "Hey, Murdoch!"

"What?" Murdoch turns, and all MacCready can think is: _Crap_. Because he knows him. He was a squad leader - like Winlock.

And Murdoch recognizes him because the next thing that comes out of my mouth is: "Holy _fuck_."

MacCready panics, a chill runs down his spine. "You know this guy, boss?" Tall guy asks.

Murdoch rises, and MacCready can physically feel himself shrinking back. "He's the son-of-a-bitch who took out Winlock's entire squad of Gunners."

At this point, the other Gunners in the bar have noticed and begun to gather around them.

Murdoch takes a step towards him, getting so close to his face he can smell his breath. "Didn't know you were still operating in Gunner territory, MacCready."

"I operate where I want," MacCready says. "I don't take orders from you. Not anymore."

Magnolia from the stage still sings, but she's looking over in his direction. The Gunners have begun to crowd.

MacCready needs to say something, he needs to get out of this. Now. "Unless you want a war with Goodneighbor, I suggest you call your people off."

Murdoch leans back, eyebrows raised. "Right. But the way I see it," he tilts his head, narrowing his eyes. "You fired first with that whole highway operation."

MacCready will not allow his fear to show - he won't. "Explain that to Hancock. He runs this place, and he's got way more resources than your little tag team here."

Murdoch considers this. He turns his head back to White-Chapel Charlie wiping glasses in the corner. "You're right," he says. "Should we take this outside?"

"I'm not going anywhere with you," MacCready says. He can't help but think of how he wouldn't be here if he had stayed with Clarke. Murdoch grimaces, and with the nod of his head, two Gunners begin to walk closer to him. In his panic, MacCready frantically looks for a weapon - and he finds it in the form of a glass bottle on the bar counter.

He grabs it quickly, and smashes it against tall guy's head, knocking him out cold.

Magnolia's stopped singing, the bar goes quiet for a moment - and then it's madness. He narrowly dodges a left hook from Murdoch as the fighting commences.

Even if the drifters weren't originally involved in MacCready's drama, they are now. As if the wastelanders were wanting to fight, they jump in and it's flat out _war_ in the middle of the Third Rail. MacCready books it back to the VIP lounge, grabbing his rifle and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He needs to get out of Goodneighbor. He's not waiting for a caravan, he's going _now_.

As he's packing, he can hear the click of a gun behind his back. He blood runs cold. "Up," the voice says. It belongs to Murdoch.

MacCready stands up shakily, his hands shaking. Thoughts are going through his mind a million miles an hour - he's thinking how dumb he was to leave Clarke like this. He's thinking that he's going to leave Duncan an orphan. He raises his arms in defense, anticipating the bullet.

"Your little highway trip cost us big," he breathes. "And killing you isn't gonna bring our men back, but it's gonna make me feel a little better."

A gun fires and MacCready winces, shutting his eyes. But he can still feel himself wincing, and he knows something is seriously up. He opens his eyes and finds he's still in the Third Rail. An impossible thought crosses his mind: _Am I dead? Is this Hell?_

He turns around just as Murdoch's body falls down. Dead. And the figure behind him, standing in the doorway holding a smoking gun. Clad in a red frock coat, he is an unmistakable figure.

"MacCready," Hancock says. "What did I tell you about starting fights in my bar?"

MacCready's relief is so great, it takes the wind right out of him. He can't even offer a thank you.

Hancock rolls his eyes and points to his rifle, "pick that up, it's a madhouse out there. And you are too old for me to save your ass like this."

* * *

All I get is tomorrow.

I'm some sort of a celebrity in the Institute. I find it absurd and a little surreal that all the people here see me as some sort of symbol when all I did have Shaun.

"It can't be all true, right?" asks someone from Robotics on my first day. "I mean, you didn't really take on a deathclaw all by yourself?"

"No! It's not true," I tell them, but denying it just makes them believe me more.

"You didn't really take down an entire squad of Gunners on an abandoned freeway, shutting down their operations for weeks," another one says.

"It wasn't an entire squad, but I guess it did shut down their operations for a while. And it's not like I did it alone."

"So, then it _is_ true!"

It's no use - no amount of downplaying the story can convince the others that Father's mother is not some larger than life, bad ass, mama bear.

On my first day in the Institute, a Generation 2 synth picks me up from my quarters to have breakfast with Shaun.

Upon arriving, I find that there's a dining table set up in Father's office, next to a balcony overlooking the Institute. Shaun's there, sitting, but when he sees me he rises. "Mother," he says, he looks me up and down. "I see you're already assimilating well into our community."

I look down at my jumpsuit, but I don't feel like telling him I only took it because it was clean. I take a seat at the table as a gen. 1 synth scoots me in.

At Father's request, the gen. 1 synths come into the room, carrying platters of food. They lay it down in front of us, as Father begins on his porridge. I thank the synths as they leave, but Father assures me 'they can't understand'.

The first few minutes are uncomfortably quiet as we begin the meal. A nearby clock on the wall ticks, reminding me of how slowly the time is passing.

"So," Father says breaking the silence. "How old are you, mother?"

The questions keeps me in check with how much we are strangers to each other. "Twenty-seven, now," I tell him.

He nods, taking an extreme interest in his porridge.

I try to say it as nonchalantly as possible - "So, is there someone else with you here? Wife, girlfriend?"

"No."

I try again. "Children?"

"The synths are my children," he says. "Through science, I am their father."

Well, at least biologically, there goes my chances of being a grandmother. Or, I'm the ultimate grandmother, depending on how you look at it.

A gen. 2 synth enters the room and bends down to Father's ear to whisper something to him. After a moment, Father nods solemnly, "Yes. Thank you for the report," and satisfied, the synth turns and leaves. I watch him go.

"What was that all about?" I ask.

Father scrunches his nose together, shaking his head - for a moment, I can see Nate in him. "It's nothing of importance to you," he assures me. "The child synth - we're beginning to test him against emotional stimuli. I ask for reports to be given to me every few hours."

I set my soup down, "Shaun, about that… synth."

"You mean the child?" He launches suddenly. "It's a fascinating project, really. There are issues to be solved, of course, but we've made remarkable process."

"But making him in your image? It seems like…" I pick my words carefully. "A strange choice on more than one level."

"I understand how it might seem that way. It was… It is, something new. New discoveries are always welcome." He hesitates, but he comes out and says it. "I'll admit I'm curious. As a parent looking for their child, looking for the younger version of me, what did you think? Do you think you could love him? Like you would a real boy?"

I reach over the table and grab his hand, "Shaun, I don't need some version of you, I have the _real_ you. _That's_ what matters to me."

His eyes soften but he slides his hand away from mine. "That's… Your loyalty is certainly significant. But, If in some way, the boy's presence can help, I hope you'll keep an open mind."

Breakfast continues, but I still have questions. "So, you're testing emotional stimuli?"

He nods. "The boy is beginning to latch onto some of the scientists inside Advanced Systems, where he lives. Doctor Li thinks he's begun to imprint on them. Remarkable work really, for a synth to do so. Every day, we're seeing progress like this, it's really quite fascinating. Which reminds me, I'd like to take you around to meet all of the directors in the Institute today. See who you'll be working with."

I pause. "You think he's imprinting?"

"Yes, and it's a fascinating breakthrough. One of our lead scientists, Doctor Watson spends considerable time around the child and the child is taking well to him. It shows how far our technology has come."

I stop him there, "Okay. Stop, this is… a lot to take in, Shaun. Don't you see the danger in what you're doing here?"

He chuckles, "It's hardly dangerous, the boy is no older than ten, he's not dangerous."

"No, he was _programmed_ to be ten." I correct. "If I may - the problem is, you haven't considered the humanity of what you're doing. I want to support you, Shaun, but you're testing the life of a child here. You're calling him a breakthrough, but does he know that?"

He scoffs, "I don't think you are giving us our due credit. Our scientists have accomplished things here which nobody has ever done before, not even before the bombs."

I shake my head. "Shaun, have you ever been around kids outside of this child?"

Shaun puts down his spoon, and puts his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers together. Almost like he's daring me to speak. And I'll take him on it - I'm his damn mother. "Okay, I'll bite."

I purse my lips, "You don't know how kids are. If a child doesn't have a solid parental figure in their lives, they'll flock to whatever type of guidance they can get. You call it imprinting, but I wonder if this child is just incredibly lonely."

He leans forward in his seat, "How do _you_ know all of this?" Challenging, denouncing.

"I was a lawyer," I tell him. "I did several case studies on it, it happened a lot in divorce cases," I explain. "And… Well, I did some extra research on the side for it when I was pregnant with you."

His eyes soften, and he sits up straighter in his seat. "What are you suggesting?"

I shrug, "I think the best thing you need for this child right now is just a friend. Somebody who's not… testing him. Who _wants_ to be there just for him. I think that's what's healthy."

The gen. 1 synths come back, and take our dishes and clean the table for us. In their bustle, we are quiet, we don't talk to each other. And I understand in this moment of our shared silence the reality of what my family has become: Two strangers trapped in a web of DNA and forced to cope.

The gen. 1 synths leave, taking the remnants of our breakfast with them. Father speaks again after a few moments have passed. "Perhaps you'd like to take that job."

"Huh?"

"You said it yourself, that this boy needs a friend," Father says. "And I think maybe you're right. All I have to work with here are scientists, but if what you said is correct, perhaps he doesn't need a scientist. He needs an outsider like you."

"Oh," I say, my stomach feels like it's being wrapped in a knot. "Shaun, I don't know if I'd be comfortable with… I mean, he looks so much like you… I don't know if I want that."

"It'd only be for a few days, to see if it would work out." He says. "I think you'd be very helpful in this part of the Institute. This morning, I was going to ask you to help return a rogue synth, but I can see now, this is where you'd fit in with us."

I hesitate - I promised Father I would give him a chance. And it's not like anyone is expecting me to come back to the surface anytime soon. I nod finally, "Okay." I tell him. "We'll see how it works out."

For the next few hours of the day, I meet with the heads of the divisions at the Institute with Father. They ask me weird questions, but they are polite enough with Father hanging around.

However, when lunch rolls around, it's time for me to meet the synth child. I get a special food tray from the Institute cafeteria and walk over to Advanced Systems with Father's golden stamp-of-approval passed down on me.

I step inside A.S, with all the scientists watching me intently. Doctor Watson, the man introduced to me a few hours ago walks up to me. "You ready to meet him?"

 _I already have met him,_ I think. _Screaming, and crying and… saying all sorts of weird things to him._ "Ready."

He leads me over to a section in A.S where the boy is sitting behind a glass wall, reading a book on his bed. I pity the synth immediately - all he knows are glass walls.

I take a deep breath and press the button. The door slides open and I step in, carrying the tray of food: A mushy pile of potatoes, a slab of gray mystery meat, and a tall glass of purified water, cold and clear. I clear my throat, alerting him.

The boy looks up from his book, and it's the first time I get a good look at him. There's a quiet intelligence about him, just like in Father, especially in his eyes. And his eyes are brown. He has big teddy bear eyes. His skin is dark, like mine, maybe a tad lighter because of Nate, and because he's never seen sunlight. His hair's combed back, and he's wearing a pressed, starched white jumpsuit.

"Hello," I say. "I brought you lunch," setting down the tray.

He watches me do it and his eyes are big. "Oh hi," he says. "I know you."

I nod, tucking my hair behind my ear, slightly embarrassed. "Yeah, I know, and I wanted to say - "

"You're new here, right?" He interrupts.

I blink. "Yes, I'm new."

He goes on, "No one new ever shows up around here."

I chuckle nervously, "I'm sorry, we've met before…"

He tilts his head, "No we haven't."

I frown, "So you don't… recognize me?"

"Should I?"

I open my mouth quickly, but I shut it. I give him a fake laugh, "Sorry, it's been a weird day. Um, are you hungry?"

He sets down his book, and stands up, taking the tray from me, "Thanks," he says. He launches into his next question, "Do you like the Institute so far?"

I'm still processing how he doesn't know me. Did his memory get wiped after he saw me? Was that what that whole recall code was about? "I think a better question is: Do _you_ like it here, Shaun?"

"Oh, I think it's great! I learn new things every day and Doctor Watson is always playing games with me. So you've been above ground… Is it really all destroyed by there?"

"How do you know about the Commonwealth?" I ask, a smile growing on my face. The kid was smart.

"This one time, I modified a radio so I could listen to the broadcast up there… I think it's called Diamond City Radio. The music was neat, I didn't understand anything they were saying, though."

I chuckle and take a seat on his bed while he starts eating on his desk. "Did you really?"

"Yeah," he says, chewing on his food. "It wasn't hard too, Doctor Watson keeps all of his tools out because he doesn't think I know how to use them, but I can!"

I laugh, it's the first time I've actually laughed since MacCready left. "That's pretty cool, kid."

"Hey, don't tell Doctor Watson I did that," he tells me. "I might get in trouble."

"Cross my heart," I tell him, drawing an 'x' over my chest.

He looks at me curiously, leaning forward in his seat. "What does that mean?" He eyes go wide, he whispers, "Is that a _wasteland_ thing?"

"Not exactly," I shrug. "It's just a way to say you promise something. It's like an 'on your honor' type thing."

He nods, and then he makes an x shape over his heart too. "I think I get it," he smiles.

I smile back, "And it _is_ pretty destroyed up there. Lots of old buildings, lots of them are destroyed."

"Not like the Institute," He says.

"Nuh-uh," I say. "Not like the Institute at all," I smile. "It's still good, though. There are good people up there. And it's not all destroyed, people have started rebuilding."

He smiles, "the surface seems cool, I'd love to see it one day." He says, "Hey, I need to get back to my reading. Maybe you can come by later!"

I laugh, "you're okay with that?"

"Yeah! It'll be fun!"

And that's how it began.


	21. The Song About Naps

When I wake the following day it was several seconds before I remember MacCready again. Yesterday, it hadn't sunk it, but today I _felt_ it.

I hope childishly that it is a dream, that Mac was still in Sanctuary and had never left. Yet I know I don't have to transport back there to know the truth. I pull myself from my bed and drag my body into the shower inside my Institute quarters.

 _He's gone_ , I tell myself. _He's gone_. I kept thinking it as I wash and dress, as though repetition would dull the shock of it. _He's gone and he's not coming back._ And that is the simple truth of it, I know because once he finds Duncan, he's never planning on coming back to the Commonwealth.

He's not coming back to me.

There is a balcony outside my bedroom. After I've finished my shower, I step over to it. I play with the dog tags on my neck, rubbing my thumb over the engraved name. I don't remember how long I stood there.

"Mother?" I hear Shaun's voice echo.

I wait a moment, "Out here."

Shaun's footsteps come onto the balcony, he walks up next to me. "I was wondering if you'd like to come to the next directorate meeting with me. I'd greatly appreciate if you were to be a part of it."

I'm half listening, "yeah, sounds good."

Father notices this and puts his hands on the banister. "Admiring it? It's taken some work to make it like this, but I believe it was all worth it."

"It is impressive," I say, "But I wasn't admiring it, I was actually just thinking about your father," I murmur. I look over at him mournfully, "He never got to see you like this. Never got to see you grow up."

Father hesitates but says: "For many years I never questioned who you or my father were," he sighs. "I accepted my situation and that was that…. With old age comes regret, and asking 'what if' more often. But what matters now is that you and I have a chance to begin again."

I smile and put a hand on his shoulder, "I know."

We both stand on the balcony, watching the chatter below of the Institute. Then, after a few minutes in silence have passed, Shaun says, "Will you… Tell me about him?"

I look over at him, "About your father?"

He nods. I bite my lip, thinking of what to say. "His name was Nathan, but he liked being called Nate. He wanted to go into biology, but he was drafted and became a soldier instead."

"He was a scientist?" Father asks.

"He was going to be," I say. "I was finishing up my degree when your father was at war. It helped me take my mind off things. I worried all the time. And when your father came home we got married and had you." I smile at him. Hesitantly, I reach out a hand to touch him. I'm surprised that he allows me. I rub his cheek slightly with my thumb.

"Was it… hard?" He asks.

I shake my head. "I was happy. And you were such a good baby that when you were born it all felt like a dream… Well, sort of, your father struggled after the war. It was hard for him to adjust."

"Adjust?"

"Well, he came home," I tell him. "But I don't think the war was ever over for him."

Shaun frowns. "Why couldn't it be over for him, he was home, was he not?"

I shake my head, "it wasn't over for him because your father had a conscious."

He pauses. "What happened to him in the war?"

"No one knew," I tell him.

"He didn't tell you?"

"He couldn't," I tell him. "It hurt him too much to talk about."

Shaun nods slowly, processing it all. "Thank you for telling me, mother."

We both exist in the mutual silence.

And then all I can think about is Shaun living here, and existing here, without knowing either Nate or me and how that pained me deeply. "I wish I could have been there," I say quietly. "For all of your accomplishments. All of your achievements, I wish I could have been there. Seeing you. Seeing you grow."

Father doesn't say anything for a moment, then, "There's no way to reverse it mother, there is no sense in discussing it."

"I know, son," I say. "I just… I look at you and I see a whole life behind your eyes, and I wasn't there for it." I sigh and fold my arms over my chest.

Father doesn't speak for a long time. The silence is deafening. And then, after a couple of minutes: "The synth might be needing you again, you should go speak to him again today."

Without another word, Father steps away from the balcony and I watch him go.

* * *

Hancock stops MacCready at the entrance to the VIP lounge - just before they head back into the firefight. "You good?" He asks.

Leaning against the wall, MacCready is sure his heart is about to pump right out of his chest - he's absolutely certain of it. "Are you kidding me? I'm not about to let a couple of Gunners stand between me and getting home," he says.

Hancock shoot him a look, "Am I supposed to know what you're talking about?"

He shrugs. "Maybe it's better that you don't," MacCready answers.

Hancock peaks around the corner, sighing, "I told you joining up with these assholes was a bad idea."

MacCready takes a deep breath, steadying his nerves. He pulls the safety off his .50 cal, "Well, you always talked about how Charlie needed more excitement in his bar."

Hancock cackles, "well Goodneighbor could always use the extra buzz."

Hancock is just about to step out, but MacCready stops him. Reaches over and puts a hand on his shoulder, "Hey. It's good to see you, man."

Hancock grins, "Tell me about it _after_ I save your ass?"

MacCready rolls his eyes and puts his eye to the scope: Lines up a gunner's head in the crosshairs, and fires.

Hancock takes point, heading into the crowd, but MacCready covers him from the back room. If there's someone behind him, someone Hancock can't see yet, MacCready guards him.

After a couple successful fires, MacCready steps out the lounge, and into the firefight.

Hancock is sure to only take out the Gunners, none of the drifters. He makes a show of it like it's a game.

MacCready, from the back of the room, sees one of the Gunners pointing their gun away from a drifter and towards Hancock. MacCready is already up and running through the bar.

The gunner gets one shot at Hancock, but not before MacCready is on him, his momentum throwing the Gunner back and slamming his head into the ground.

MacCready grabs the wrist of the man's gun hand. He wrestles it out of the Gunner's hand, and once he's got it, he wastes no time firing into the man's head.

MacCready takes the handgun up and shoots at a Gunner coming for him. Turning his head back, he finds Hancock's flipped a table over for cover. From behind the table, he can hear Hancock calling his name.

MacCready dodges the other Gunners, sliding behind the overturned table with Hancock. When he looks up from above the table, he sees there are only a few stragglers left.

With the mayor's help, he takes down the remaining Gunners out of the bar.

When the fighting is done, MacCready heads up the stairs to take a breather.

He steps outside into the cool March air of Goodneighbor. Taking off his cap, he runs a hand through his hair, and takes a deep breath, regaining himself. He just wanted a damn _drink_ —

Hancock steps out of the Third Rail, tucking his sidearm back into holster, "Um… You alright, brother?"

RJ rubs his temples, "I'm fine, I was just heading off anyway."

Hancock folds his arms together, narrowing his eyes. "Where you headed? New job?"

MacCready turns around to face him, "something like that. I'm getting out of the Commonwealth for a while."

Hancock's eyes soften, "that's a damn shame," he says. "So where are you heading?"

MacCready doesn't see a point in lying to Hancock, "Capital Wasteland."

Hancock purses his lips, taking a step towards him. "When are you going?"

MacCready thinks, pausing, "I was supposed to leave in a few days but… Considering where there are Gunners there's always a crowd to follow, I should probably get going now."

MacCready walks towards the gate, he'll have to talk to Daisy first, tell her goodbye. He would've gone immediately if Hancock hadn't called his name again.

When he turns around again, he sees Hancock walking up to him. "You need some help getting out of the Commonwealth?"

MacCready frowns. " _You_ want to get out Goodneighbor?"

Hancock puts a hand on his shoulder, lowering his voice, "Lemme tell ya—This classy little tricorner hat of mine is getting heavy. I'm losing sight of who I used to be."

"Okay..." MacCready says.

"I need to take that walk again, you see?" Hancock tells him. "Get a grip on what really matters. Living free."

MacCready shakes his head, "but I'm leaving the Commonwealth, do you really want to go that far?"

Hancock shrugs, "I figure I can just stick with you for a while, come back here when you're out of the Commonwealth. Not that long, just take a short break."

MacCready weights it in his mind. He has missed having someone watching his back, and it would be safe to have an extra gun with him. "I can't pay you for it," RJ says.

Hancock folds his arms, "I don't need you paying for it. Call it a gesture of goodwill."

MacCready has never 'trusted' gestures of goodwill. Hancock must see the look on his face because the next thing he says is, "It's more for me than you anyways, I need to get out of Goodneighbor for a while, anyways. It's making me soft."

MacCready groans, rubbing his neck, he's already thinking he'll regret this. "Fine."

Hancock smirks, taking a step away from him, "Let me just have a little chat with my community, first. Give them the news."

MacCready nods, "I gotta go talk to Daisy, anyway. I'll meet you at the gates."

Hancock goes ahead into the Old State building as he walks over to Daisy's Discounts, she makes a face when she sees him again. "Didn't I just talk to you?"

MacCready puts his elbows on his counter. A little way off, he can hear Hancock beginning his speech. "I'm leaving right now, Dais. Can't stay that long, actually."

Daisy looks a little disappointed. "That's too bad. What changed your mind?"

"It doesn't matter, I just got to get out of here."

There's a chanting in the center of Goodneighbor that can be heard loud and clear:

 _"Of the people for the people!"_

"And don't let no one forget it!" Hancock yells over the noise.

"Hancock's coming with me for a while," MacCready tells her.

Daisy smiles, impressed. "You're moving up in the world, kid. Don't forget the little people on your way to the top, huh?"

MacCready rolls his eyes, smiling back. "Can't forget somebody like you, Daisy."

"Kind words for an old lady," Daisy chuckles.

MacCready turns on his heels to leave, but Daisy calls his name one last time.

"Wait," Daisy says. "What if your employer comes here? Asks questions about you?"

MacCready spins back around, "don't tell her anything." MacCready says, "if she asks questions, just tell her I've already left."

Daisy sighs, and nods. "Okay. Be safe, kid."

MacCready gives Daisy a nod, and a moment later, he meets Hancock at the gates.

They travel for a while, mostly in silence. They get a couple miles outside of Goodneighbor before camping for the night.

As MacCready pulls out his sleeping bag, he realizes he's thinking about her again. He thinks about what her life was like before the bombs. He thinks about her somewhere in the Commonwealth, if she was okay, if _she_ were thinking of _him_ too.

Laying down, absentmindedly, he tugs on her necklace — the one she got him for Christmas.

He closes his eyes, trying to get rid of the thought of her. He even managed to get to sleep, but somehow she ends up in his dreams too.

* * *

"Do you think it's weird I've never seen the surface?" Synth Shaun asks me as he beats me again and again at chess. He gives me this look, _be honest._

I purse my lips together. "Not really," I tell him. "Plenty of people down here have never seen the surface."

He looks down, shifting a bishop behind his pawn defense. "I think it's weird." Then a look crosses his face — a hopeful one. "Maybe I could come with you to the surface one day," he says. "Do you think that'd be okay with Father?"

"Kid…" I trail off, but I see his eyes and I know I can't give him a no yet. "I'll ask him, okay?"

"Really?" He beams. "Thanks!"

I move my right-hand knight, forking his queen and bishop. A little hum of satisfaction in my gut as I feel myself getting better at the game. "So do you... see Father a lot?"

"Sometimes he comes in, but mostly he talks to Doctor Li or Watson."

I shrug, "he's a busy man."

Shaun stares at the board, looking distracted. He looks up at me and frowns, "Father seems really serious. And sad."

I sigh, "He's got a lot on his plate, kiddo."

"That's too bad," Shaun says, gazing down at the board. He purses his lips and then smiles. "Maybe you should tell him some jokes!"

I smile. "Good idea."

The boy smiles back, and then he drags his queen out of hiding, and before I can take my well-earned bishop, says, "Check."

He looks at me, beaming.

I sigh, "I've lost haven't I?"

Shaun studies the board intently and then looks back up to me. "In four more moves, yeah." He bounces in his chair. "You wanna see that radio I modified now?"

I consider that the chances of me winning the next game are pretty slim. "Alright," I say, sitting up straighter. I look behind my back, peering through the glass walls. Nobody's around. They are all in the other room. We're safe.

The synth goes under his bed, pulling out a box. Taking off the lid, he pulls out his makeshift ham radio, setting it on the ground. "Here it is," he says proudly. "Made it myself. Doctor Watson leaves out his tools a lot, so I figured I could make one. And I did! What do you think?"

I smile, rubbing my thumb on the machine. "Does it work?"

He nods, "Mmm-hm!" Clicking a few dials, he spins a knob around for a moment, looking for a radio signal.

We sit cross-legged together on the floor, staring at the radio. After a moment, a signal comes on. Diamond City's Travis Miles stuttering voice buzzes on. We latched onto the middle of one of his broadcasts.

" _Coming to you from, uh, the Jewel Green… Uh heh, the Green — huh, I mean, the Great Great Jewel of the Commonwealth! Heh! It's Diamond City radio_!" Travis coughs into the microphone for a moment, piercing the feedback. " _Here's Sixty Minute Man. And I mean, let's be honest here, he's not talking about how long his naps are. Heh. So… Here it is!"_

The radio begins playing the song and Shaun grins, turning the knob to turn it up louder. "Oh, I like this one." He says, "so, wait, what is the song about?"

My eyes widen, "Um. It is about naps. He was making a joke."

"O-oh," Shaun nods. Then a beat later laughs. "That's funny."

I tug on a piece of my hair, fake-laughing. "Yeah, I know."

Shaun beats his head to the rhythm. "I really like doing stuff like this. Taking things apart and seeing what I can make from them. Doctor Watson calls it _tinkering_."

I was glad for a subject change. I prop my elbow on one of my legs, resting my chin on my hand. "What else does Doctor Watson say?"

Shaun says it as matter-of-factly as someone could say it: "He says he doesn't think you belong here," he says. "Because you're not a scientist."

My heart sinks. _Oh_. "What do you think?"

Shaun shrugs, smiling at me. "I like when you're here."

I smile back. "That's good. I like it here, too."

Maybe not the Institute. Maybe just the kid.

The song pitters off, and Travis comes back on the radio.

" _So, uhh, there are some rumors out there... in the Commonwealth... that I have heard... You know the one about the Railroad_?" Travis Miles's voice echoing in room. I hold my breath, moving my head closer to the speakers. _"A, uhh, a group that actually helps... helps synths who want to escape the I—"_

I shoot my finger to turn the radio off immediately.

Shaun quirks an eyebrow. "Why'd you turn it off?"

I realize a moment too late that the impulse move might've been more suspicious than what was actually on the radio. "Um. Diamond City's radio is full of conspiracy theories," I wave him off. "Besides, the radio you should really be tuning into is the Silver Shroud radio. You'd love it."

And speaking of the Railroad, I haven't talked or reported to them in weeks. Shit.

The room's silent. "Hey, tell you what," I say, boosting myself up. "I've got to go, but I'll go ask Father about you coming to the surface, okay?"

Shaun stands up with me, following me as I head for the doors to Advanced Systems, but before I do, I feel a tug on my arm.

Turning, I find Shaun grabbing my sleeve. "You're coming back, right?"

I pause, a little startled at how much it matters to him. "Of course I am," I say. A dagger of guilt stabbing into me as I realize I'm only going to meet with the Institute's enemies. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know. You're busy, too. Like Father. Lots of people need you." Shaun looks at his feet, swaying back and forth on his toes. He's even rubbing his hands together.

I soften, taking a knee in front of him. I place my hand on his shoulder. "Hey," I say. "I'll only be gone a couple of days." _Déjà vu_ : I am reminded of a bridge, of a shrinking figure on the horizon.

"Promise?"

There's the kicker. MacCready didn't promise coming back; he knew better. Me, I'm not that smart. "Promise."

I bite my lip, considering an idea. "Will you do something for me?" I ask suddenly.

Synth Shaun's eyes light up, "what?"

Tugging Nate's dog tags off my neck, I take his hand, peel back his fingers and press the necklace into his palm. "Hold on to this for me, okay?"

"What is it?" Staring at the metal glittering in his hand.

"It's really important to me," I tell him. "I never go anywhere without it…. But I'm not going to be needing it for the next few days. Can you keep it safe for me for a little while? Until I come back?"

Pride rises in him, he grins and nods; A good, strong, confident nod. I grin right back, chuckling. "Well, see now I _have_ to come back."

"For the necklace?" Shaun asks, rubbing his fingers right over the engraved name.

I stand back up, "No, not just for the necklace," I say, tousling his hair. Synth Shaun looks up and me and smiles. It's all that needs to be said before I leave.

I have no idea where that came from. I've never thought of parting with Nate's dog tags before. I thought I'd keep them on me until the day I died.

Those damned dog tags of the deceased soldier. I thought I kept it out of guilt and shame, to remind myself of him, of all the things that had been ripped away. But maybe there's another reason, a reason I can't put into words because I don't have the words for it. Maybe there aren't any.


	22. Even With All Your Troubles

Shaun's office was sleek, cold and big. In one corner of the room, there is him and a scientist discussing reports. In the other, his teddy bear sits slumped in a chair. Forgotten, and—in this light—looking of a splotchy gray color. It's seen it's fair share of grime.

I wait in the doorway until Shaun catches my eye. After a moment, he finishes his talk with the scientist, waiting for me to approach.

"Mother," he says. "I've been meaning to ask you how your talks have been going with the child synth."

"Oh," I begin. "Why? What have you heard?"

Shaun shrugs, placing his clipboard on his desk. "Truthfully, I haven't been to Advanced Systems in a few days. It's why I need the reports from the directors, they keep me updated on the matters."

I nod thoughtfully. "Oh. Well, he's a sweet kid," I tell him, then smiling, "Asks lots of questions."

"I was the same at his age," Shaun says, "Which is a marvelous breakthrough on its own, that he replicates personality along with his genetic sequences."

I tilt my head, "what were you like as a ten-year-old?"

"Hard to remember it's been so long," Father sighs. "But I enjoyed learning. I wanted to understand the Institute from a young age. I remember I had a small journal, and I would write down all my observations in a journal. nobody knew anybody who asked as many questions as me. I think the scientists who raised me were quite annoyed with me for a time," he says, a smile creeping on his lips.

I fake a smile back. "I keep forgetting how much I still don't know about you," I tell him. _I should've been with you. I should've been with you._

"We have been strangers until now, you and I," Shaun says matter-of-factly.

"And now all that matters is the time we have left, right?" I say. "Like we talked about?"

Shaun nods, taking a seat at his desk. "Is there any other reason you came in here today?"

"I need to get back up to the surface again," I tell him. "And I can't keep using the relay."

Father nods thoughtfully, "Yes, I was wondering when you'd ask about that. I've asked Doctor Ayo, he's allowed a courser chip to be implanted in your Pip-boy for travel here. Just pass it on to him the next time you're in Synth Retention."

I nod, turning my heels to head back as Shaun calls out, "Mother."

I spin, "Yes?"

He hesitates. "So the boy," he says. "He's well?"

I pause, "He's doing fine. If you didn't tell me he wasn't… you know, I never would have guessed he wasn't a real boy. He's got a thing for reading and he likes building things. It's been... nice being around kids again." I shake my head, "Why, are you planning something?"

Father sighs, "the other heads of scientists aren't seeing much use of him. They are thinking of cutting the program. It won't happen without my say-so, but I need to know if you think he's necessary."

"Hold on," I say. "You don't see use in him so you're just going to cut him out?"

"My associate's, mind you," Shaun says sternly. "And it's not a human, it's a simulacrum. Don't act like it's so inhumane."

I shake my head. "Whoa—hey, Shaun… You have to promise me you'll keep his program… He does more good than you realize. I mean—you should see how the scientists react to him down in Advanced Systems, I mean, Doctor Li just _adores_ him, he's like a breath of fresh air down there, and he's—"

"—I'll take it up with the scientists," Shaun interrupts, then after a beat: "I appreciate your help in all of this."

I fidget with my hands, realizing how desperate I must've sounded. "It's nothing."

Shaun says, "I know you're always in and out but you've probably seen...Everything I've done here has been for the future."

A thought comes to mind. I can't help but chuckle.

"What's so funny?"

"It's ironic," I shrug. "The difference between us. It seems like everything _I've_ done was to secure my past."

He waits for me to go on. I find myself looking over at the teddy bear on his nearby chair. "It's just… Finding you… Finding _family_. Some days I feel all I'm doing just is trying to cheat time. Pretend the two hundred years didn't happen." Shaun stares at me for a long, silent moment. "But they _did_ happen. And now we have to pick up the pieces of the old world."

I walk up close to him, take his hands and say, "When you were a baby? Halloween was just a couple days before the world ended. But it was your first Halloween, and I wanted to make it special." A faint smile grows on my lips, "I made you a pumpkin costume. You were gonna be the cutest damn kid on the whole block, I swear you were." The smile begins to fade as I continue, "your father was so excited for you. After the war, not a lot of things made him happy… Or gave him hope. But you did. You and the sweet spirit you brought our family."

Shaun looks uncomfortable, his hands are fidgeting in mine. "Why are you telling me this?"

I squeeze his hands assuredly. "Listen…Shaun…I just don't want you to forget things."

"Things like what, mother?"

"You need to remember it wasn't always like this," I say, shaking my head. "It wasn't all war, all experimentation. All death or grief or loss or disaster. And it doesn't have to be like this now."

"What are you talking about with remembering things?" He says, "I was an infant. I couldn't possibly—"

"Not like that," I argue. "You weren't born into this world…Now that I think about it, neither of us really belong here."

Shaun takes his hand away. "No, I _do_ belong here. You didn't raise me, mother," he tells me. "I know to you I was kidnapped, but the Institute is my home. A life in the Commonwealth would surely have destroyed me. Have you any idea of the breakthroughs we make here? That I make here? If you spent more time here you'd see the Institute is truly the only hope _left_ for humanity."

Something in my expression must give me away, a mixture of shock and horror. "You're right," I say hollowly. "I didn't raise you."

Father's face goes flat, no emotion to tell me what his thinking. "I hope you have a good trip above ground. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to complete my work."

Later, upon installing the courser chip, I am gone in the flash of a moment.

* * *

Figuring it's Courser technology, and that there had to be some sort of tracking equipment attached to it, when I re-materialize above ground, I stow away my Pip-boy in an abandoned building a couple blocks away from Railroad HQ before heading there myself.

When I walk into HQ, Desdemona is the first to see me, locking eyes with me immediately, the first words out of her mouth is: "Oh. Thank. God."

And Tinker Tom, from the other side of the room: " _WOO_! See Dez, I _told_ you the molecular stabilization would hold!"

I'm still shaky from the travel back, from the talk with Shaun that when Desdemona first begins speaking to me, I only get half of it:

"—It is really, really, really good to see you. Did you do it? Did you make it inside the Institute?" She asks the fire is there in her eyes. She's as excited as I've ever seen her.

A smile quirks on the side of my face, "did you think I died?"

"You were gone for weeks," she says pointedly.

I shrug, realizing her point. "Well—I'm not—so that's good. The signal interceptor worked. I've been there. I've seen it all."

"I almost can't believe it. And Tom's holotape? Did you make contact with Patriot?"

I shake my head, "No, but I took that holotape and plugged it into a terminal. I think it got everything."

"How soon can you get back?" Desdemona asks, "if you can get back at all, was that you're last shot inside?"

I huff, somewhere behind a scoff and a laugh. It's almost funny how much access I have back. I've got the VIP pass. "I can get back in, no problem."

She nods, pursing her lips. She hesitates, "And your son?"

I look down. "It's…" I pause. Sixty lost years struggled on my lips, but all I could manage was: "It's a long story."

Her lips purse, she looks mournful. "I'm so sorry. If nothing else, it's a testament to the dangers the Institute is capable of."

"Oh, I'm well aware of what the Institute's capable of," I say matter-of-factly. I stick the Institute's holotape in her palm, knowing the full effect that's going to do on the Institute. "That's why you're gonna take what's on this tape and do whatever you need with it."

She says, "You're making the right choice, you know. This is for the better of the Commonwealth. We're fighting the good fight."

Funny, that the Institute says the same thing. I suppose I'll have to decide for myself what I think is best.

"So," I say. "What's the plan?"

"The plan," she says, turning the holotape over in her fingers. "Is to make you an official member of the Railroad. What do you say?"

"You want me?" I say, quirking an eyebrow.

"An agent with a one-way ticket in and out of the Institute?" Dez says. "Yes, I think you'd prove very valuable to the team."

"Okay," I nod. I could feel my stomach twisting in the guilt of what I'm doing to Shaun. "If there's a place for me here, I want it."

"Good," Dez smiles. "And in the Railroad, we thrive on secrecy. Saying that, you'll need a code name."

 _Code name?_ I pause for a moment, thinking. "Call me Ecotone."

"I like it," Dez says. " _Ecotone_." Testing the word in her mouth. "I'll have you write a full report of the Institute on our terminal, and I'll be sure to get the holotape to Tom. Good work, agent. I think you'll fit in well here."

I give her a small smile as she turns to leave.

Later, in the terminal room, as I type out my report, I'm sure to omit the parts with Father being related to me. For now, and for his own protection, that stays under wraps. Best they don't know until I figure it out.

As I finish typing up the report, I spot a pen and a few sheets of paper on the table as well. My heart rises to my throat as an idea warms itself in my mind.

I check the door, nobody's coming in. So I grab the sheets of paper and write something long-coming:

I press my pen to the page and write, _Dear RJ…_

The words spike out, angrily, messily. _How could you leave me? I thought we cared about each other._

The letter is hateful, scornful even. Yet in a few pages, I start to calm down. It becomes about all the good things that happened to us together. At first, I do it hurt him, to remind him exactly what he's done by leaving me behind. But then it becomes all about remembering. Or more to the point, getting him to remember so that if I die suddenly, there will be a record of all of the things I feel are worth remembering.

 _Remember Christmas together? Do you remember the children's face when we brought in that Christmas tree? Do you remember drinking the hot chocolate? I loved that day. I loved that whole day._

 _Remember when you took a bullet for me? I think about that often. That was the moment that I realized, even with all your troubles, I saw you as a hero._

 _Remember when we danced together? I almost kissed you that night. I chickened out. I completely regret it now. If I was back in that hotel room right now, Bob Crosby still on the radio, I would give you the best damn kiss of your life. I know I would._

When I started, I knew how the letter would end. _I hate you for what you've done. I'm glad you're not coming back._ But when I finally reach the last page, I find myself writing - _Be safe. Live a good life with Duncan. Tell him that you love him often. Love, your-one-time-partner, Elenora._

Even before I sign my name, I feel the tears welling up inside. I wipe my cheeks and finish the letter.

My tears have soaked into the pages, warping little craters in the paper, smudging the ink. I fold the pages and slips them into a handmade envelope, then seals it and write: _To RJ MacCready, Capital Wasteland._

Then I slip out, and head for Goodneighbor.

* * *

Daisy eyes me the moment I step through the gates. I walk up to her store, pulling out things to trade.

It's a pretty simple transaction; I trade over all of the junk I've been carrying, I get a few caps back. I stock up on stimpaks and ammo. Daisy even asks me what I'm doing out in Goodneighbor for the day.

Shrugging I say, "I'm heading back to this settlement out west. I'm just stopping by for a little while."

Daisy nods, placing her cash box under the counter again. "You know, I thought you'd be headin' out after MacCready. He left a couple of days ago."

My heart lurches. I don't know what I expected, maybe I thought he'd still be in the Third Rail waiting for me to pick him up. Maybe I thought he wouldn't go, that he was all talk. I try my best not to look too interested. "Yeah, I heard."

Her eyebrow raises suspiciously, "He tell you why he left?"

 _I'm one of the reasons he left._ "No," I lie. I bite my lip, "Actually, can you make sure he gets something from me?"

Daisy frowns, "what?"

I slide the letter over the counter, "Can you send that on the next caravan heading to his homestead? It's important."

Daisy pockets the letter and keeps eye-contact with me the whole time. "I will."

I don't stay in Goodneighbor long.

Going back Sanctuary feels isolating. Too accustomed to the luxury to having somebody watching my back, I jump every noise. At every snapped branch or whistled wind, my heart threatens to leap out of my chest.

But it's the overbearing silence that gets to me.

In the place of laughter and inside jokes, there is dead air.

I use the radio to cure it. _Sixty Minute Man_ even comes on, the 'song about naps'. It helps distract me for a while, but it's not the same without MacCready. The bad jokes, the laughing, the meaningless chatter… Gone along with him.

 _You're doing just as fine on your own_ , I have to tell myself. _And now you can keep all of your profits._

But I know it's not fine.

Preston meets me at the gate. Sanctuary is looking better than it has in a while; Most of the houses fixed up and settlers moving in quite frequently. There's a water purifier plopped down in the middle of the river, there's even a generator going at the hub of the neighborhood, now. No doubt the work of Sturges.

Not too bad, but not the same.

"Hey, Clarke," Preston says as I walk into the town, he follows me as we walk up the street. "Welcome back."

"Thanks, Garvey," I say, arms folded, shuffling forward.

Preston looks behind us, frowning. "Where's that merc you were traveling with? Um, his name started with an M—"

"MacCready," I tell him. "Only had him for a few odd jobs, he's gone. Um, how're things going on over here?"

"Oh, that's a shame. He was pretty funny," Preston shrugs, changing the subject. "We've been okay. Couple more people have moved in. Sturges has been working on keeping the generator going. It's been working pretty well—Sturges even started on an old projector. We might even get a movie working eventually." Preston smiles, "We getting a theater going on here, might attract more people to move here, huh?"

He moves to elbow my side, and I fake a smile for him. "A movie would be great."

"Okay, great," Preston says. "Anyways. I wanted to ask you if you ever find some old movies while traveling, you think you bring them back here? Sturges thinks it'd be fun."

"Yeah, sure."

We reach the block where my house is. "I'm gonna turn in early," I tell Preston. "I can help with crops tomorrow."

"Sounds good, Clarke," Preston says. "See you tomorrow."

Without another word, I slip into my house, closing the door behind me, I throw my backpack on the couch, shrugging out of my coat. Right now, all I want is a couple hours of sleep and forget about the whole day.

The house is quiet. Not even a whisper of the wind against the window. I peel off my boots and hop onto my couch, laying down to get some rest.

Something feels missing. I go for my backpack, but I remember Mr. Bear's not in there. I gave him to Shaun.

That makes me sad. Maybe I shouldn't have left Mr. Bear because Mr. Bear has always been with me since I entered the Wastes. There had always been Mr. Bear. But there had always been Nate, too. And Mom and Dad and my sister, too. After a point, people, things, they just leave. And you have to adapt.

I lay back down, but there's something pressing against the nape of my neck. Frowning, I feel around for it. Pulling it out, there in my palm is a carton of Mac's cigarettes; That shitty brand he likes. _Grey Tortoises._

I sigh, flipping the carton open. Half empty. I squeeze the box in my hands, "dammit," I whisper, tears pooling in my eyes. "God- _fucking_ -dammit!"

I throw the box across the room, hitting the wall right as Codsworth zooms in from the hallway.

"Oh!" Codsworth beeps. "I hope that wasn't meant for me, mum."

I freeze, slightly shocked someone was in here. "Codsworth—" I say. "I didn't know you were in."

Codsworth picks up the discarded box, "I wasn't aware you smoked, mum. New habit in a new world, I suppose?"

I try to calm my racing heart, I wait a moment before saying, "I thought I was alone."

He sets the box on the table. "Is everything alright?"

I sigh, losing the tension. "It's nothing, I'm fine," I murmur.

"What's the matter?"

I hesitate, running a hand through my hair. It takes me a couple of minutes, but eventually, I murmur: "I'm just tired of the grief. Of lying to good people."

Codsworth motors in front of the couch. "Then, by all means, stop."

I let out a huff of breath, "believe me, I've _tried_. It just comes back."

Codsworth pauses. "Mum. A time comes when you have to stop feeling sorry for yourself and get back to work."

I exhale, "Yeah, but... I don't know what to work for at this point, Codsworth. I thought all I needed to be happy was to just get Shaun back but…" I shake my head, my voice embarrassingly small. "That was a fool's errand. Shaun didn't need me to come save him."

Codsworth zooms into the kitchen for a moment, and I see his arm motors shift towards a Nuka-Cola bottle on the counter. "Mum, did I tell you what it was like when you and hubby first left for the Vault?"

Codsworth twists off the cap, a short fizz erupts from the top, drizzling down the sides. "The initial destruction, not knowing if your family was alive—it was truly awful, Mum."

Codsworth motors back to me hands me the bottle. "And, yes. It was _hard_ at first. But I was eventually able to _move on_ ," he tells me. "At first it was the work, busying myself day and night, and believe me, there was plenty of it," he adds, chuckling. "But eventually, the work became light chores."

I soften, clutching the bottle in my palms. "When does it become light chores?" I whisper under my breath. "How long does it take to move on?"

"Well, you were gone for two hundred years," Codsworth points out.

I chuckle, a lighter feeling settling in my stomach. "Did they program you to be this wise, Codsworth?" I joke.

"General Atomics finest," he laughs. Codsworth stops. "You don't have to be alone forever, Ms. Clarke. I'm sure Sir would want you to be happy."

I smile, "He was good like that, wasn't he?" I look at the bottle of Cola in my hands, "Thank you, Codsworth…" I hesitate on it, but I want him to know. "You know you're some of the only family I've got out here? I'm glad you stayed."

Codsworth lets out a small _oh_. "That mean the world, mum."

I settle back into the couch, leaning back. "I should get some rest," I tell him.

"Of course," Codsworth says, turning to motor out. As he does, he leaves me by saying, "...You know mum, what truly saved me was my memories. Of you and the hubby, young Shaun. Your love and kindness."

A beat passes in the stillness of the home. "Just something to consider. The memories don't have to be burdensome."

That's the final thing said before I don't see him for the rest of the night.

And, for just a minute, all of it falls away, the despair and grief and anger and pain. Where I realize Codsworth could be right and I could do what he said I could do. Work until it was light chores.

Nothing about the Commonwealth has been easy. But talking to Codsworth, talking to him tells me it's not all bad.

The rest of the night goes by without else much. When Codsworth leaves, and it's time to finally fall asleep, I curl into a ball on the couch.

The next morning I wake up and warm light streams through my living room. Before I even fully wake up, I feel some sort of content. Of satisfaction. I open my eyes gingerly and find I'm in clean clothes, a clean home. The air smells good—the smell of freshly mowed grass drifts through an open window.

I rub my eyes, frowning. It was off—it wasn't the wasteland. I push myself up and look around, and my eyes catch on the figure in the corner. I stifle a breath, freezing. The figure blurs for a moment, walks up to me and focuses in view. All of the anxiety I felt washes out of me. "Nate?"

He smiles. A warm, handsome smile. The golden light inside the room makes him appear even brighter—like looking at the presence of an angel. He kneels down next to the couch and caresses my cheek. "Hi, honey."

I stifle a gasp, "Nate. Na—It can't be you." I look around, "where's…?"

He smiles, "Shh. Hey, it's okay. Just put the little guy down for a nap."

I shake my head, feeling groggy. "I don't understand..."

He tilts his head, smiling wider. "You fell asleep on the couch again. C'mere." Then, in one swift move, slides his arms under me, picking up me bridal-style. He carries me down our hallway, into our bedroom. Placing me gingerly on the bed, tugging the sheets over me.

I relax evenly as he brushes the strands of hair back from my face. My skin yearning for his touch. At this point, I'm convinced it's a dream. It has to be, doesn't it?

I sigh and squeeze his arm, he continues to smile, running his fingers along my face. I stare at him, trying to memorize his features before it becomes hazy. His eyes, his nose, his strong chin: It's a very sad thing to feel yourself forgetting how your husband looked. "I miss you," I murmur. "God help me, I miss you."

Nate is quiet for a very long time. He only looks at me lovingly and strokes my face.

At first, I feel myself wanting to reject it, so it'll be less painful when I wake up. But I think of Codsworth telling me he found a savior in memories. So I relax in the warm glow and allow myself to drift—feeling more at peace than I have in weeks.

The dream is forgotten by morning.


	23. The Legacy You Leave

I spend the next couple of days in Sanctuary, avoiding the Institute and the Railroad altogether.

One morning, coming back from a walk with Dogmeat, I find Mama Murphy sitting alone under the roof of the garage. "Hi, Mama Murphy," I say, coming up behind her.

"Hi, kid." Mama Murphy smiles, her meager lips crack open to reveal her missing a few teeth. "You know how to sew?"

"I'm okay at it," I tell her, sitting down at the table with her. She tells me to take the other side and start sewing patches onto it.

"Preston's been making all these beds for Sanctuary, but no blankets," she explains. "No blankets is a poor way to live. Especially with the winters here."

The blanket's pattern looks a little familiar. Frowning I say, "Where'd you find the cloth for this?"

"Old curtains," she replies.

I look over the patterns again. The now-faded yellow was definitely taken from my living room. "That's… uh, _resourceful_ of you."

With bony hands and knobby knuckles, she works at the quilt. "Life's hard, kid. Especially here. I'm sure you know that by now," she tells me. "Way I figure, if you're cold you suffer twice."

It's a nice sentiment, but I'm still jaded by the stolen curtains. I didn't need them anymore, and settlers are sure to go cold without blankets, but, you know. It's my _curtains._

We work in the shared silence for a while, but we fill it with Diamond City radio for a while, and meaningless chatter. There's no plan for the quilt, just sewing. I am not stressing, because even if it doesn't look good, it's still worth it to put it together.

"How'd you get involved with Preston anyway?" I ask, when one of Travis Miles's personal broadcasts has gone on for too long and I want to listen to something else.

"Ah, we've been together since the Quincy Massacre," she tells me. "When the Gunners came and attacked us, Preston's group found us. I stayed with them, the safety in numbers was nice."

Gunners. I wonder stupidly if MacCready had known some of the people that attacked them. "What'd you do before?" I question.

Mama Murphy smiles, her grin glowing in the memory. "Oh, _before_ ," she moans. "I was _something_ , kid. Big and tough, the world was my oyster. What if I told you I used to pack a pair of arms thicker than both your fists put together?"

I snort, "I'd tell you you were bullshitting me!"

Mama Murphey shrugs, like it doesn't matter if I believe her or not. The way she says the next thing makes me believe there's no lie in it at all: "Ripped a raider's head clean off, once."

I stop laughing. Mama Murphy sees the bewildered look on my face and cracks up laughing, then coughing and spluttering a second later. "You—the look on your face, kid— _priceless_!"

I squint, "It's not true?"

"Oh, it's true," she tells me, regaining her breath. "But telling that story never gets old!"

"That's disgusting!" I say, which only makes Mama Murphy crack up harder.

Preston gives us the eye as he's doing his rounds, enough to make him walk over.

"What's going on?" Preston asks.

I set my needle down, "Mama Murphy was once the real-life Grognak."

"Still am," she says, laughter in her voice.

I raise my hands, "I'll take your word for it."

Preston looks confused, then it clicks for him. "Oh. Did she tell you the Raider story?"

I look back to Mama Murphy, "How many times have you bragged about that?"

Preston chuckles, "I couldn't look her straight in the eye for a week when she told me that."

"Yeah, well, you're both softies." Mama Murphy says, crossing her arms. "They called me _Murphy the Madwoman_. They were right."

Preston shakes his head, and when he gets a look on my face, asks me if I'd like to join him on his rounds. There's no hesitation in me, I'm up before Mama Murphy can say a thing about it.

"Mama Murphy means well," Preston tells me once we're several yards away, out of her earshot. "She might not look like it, but she carries her own weight."

I snort, glancing back at Mama Murphy. Then ducking my head slightly and lowering my voice, I ask, "Was all of that true?"

Preston shrugs, "I've seen her on buffout once," he tells me. "That was enough to make me a believer."

"Ho-ly _shit_."

Preston chuckles, "What else were you talking about before she ranted to you about ripping heads off?"

My smile weans off my face. "...She told me about Quincy," I tell him. "And about your people."

Preston's face quickly goes sober, no doubt drowned in the thoughts and the faces of those he's left behind.

I don't want to make him keep thinking about it, but the curiosity wins over the compassion. "Are you really the last Minuteman?"

"The last active group," Preston tells me. "But after what happened in Quincy… well… It's just me."

"I thought those people with you, Sturges, the Long's…" I shake my head. "They aren't Minutemen?"

"They aren't soldiers for the Minutemen, but they support the cause, more or , they're just survivors I came across."

"So… You really are all that's left." I say mournfully.

Preston pauses for a moment, "Yeah."

We continue walking in silence for a few moments. The silence is grievous. "Listen, Preston…" I begin. "I know how it feels to be the last survivor. And… And I know the guilt that comes with that." I sigh, "I'm sorry."

"You do?" Preston says, perking his head at me.

I nod my head, "Yeah... I think that's the way it is when you love something," I say. "The worst can always happen, especially when you don't expect it. What matters, I guess, is how you handle being the last one. And the legacy you leave for it."

Preston nods thoughtfully, "I'm not sure I could be the one to leave the legacy for the Minutemen, though. I'm not a very good leader, I can lead a battalion, sure, but that's not a real leader. I'm a follower. I always have been…. It's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

Preston stops walking, so I stop too. "What's wrong?"

"Elenora, I can't rebuild the Minutemen… but I think you can."

I raise an eyebrow, "What makes you say that?"

"You saved us in Concord," he begins. "There wasn't anything in it for you. You had your own problems to deal with. But you did it anyway."

I shake my head, continuing to walk. "No… No that wasn't anything. That was — I just needed directions, I thought you guys would help me if I helped you."

Preston catches up with me. "No, it was more than that. You took on a deathclaw to help us. People don't do that unless there's something different about them. I don't know where you came from before we met, but here, people don't just _do_ that," Preston says. "That kind of selflessness has been in mighty short supply around here for a while. We need someone who can bring the whole Commonwealth together in a common cause —"

"Preston—"

"—And I think you've got it in you to be that leader."

We stop at the end of the cul-de-sac, near the big tree. I shake my head, but suddenly I am reminded suddenly of what Codsworth told me a few days ago, about how he dealt with the grief: ' _At first it was the work, busying myself day and night, but eventually the work became light chores.'_

"You're serious about this?" I ask him.

"Very."

I bite my lip, "And you're sure you couldn't be the one to do it? You're sold on that idea?"

"Completely."

I wait a few moments, mulling it all over. "Okay, Preston. I'll do it."

"Good," Preston smiles. " _Good!_ Welcome aboard. I feel like this is a whole new start for the Minutemen, and the Commonwealth, too. Don't worry. I'll be right beside you all the way…. General."

My lips quirk up, "General?"

"Yeah," Preston says cooly. "The leader of the Minutemen has always held the rank of General."

"General Clarke," I say, testing how it feels in my mouth. "Nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"It's perfect," Preston tells me. "With you at our helm, I think it's gonna be really good for the rebuilding of the Minutemen."

I smile, "and with Mama Murphy on our side, we'll definitely make an impression to the rest of the Commonwealth."

"Well," Preston says. "Only if she starts ripping heads off again."

"Raiders will probably start shitting themselves—"

Just then, Sturges jogs up to us. Preston raises an eyebrow, "everything alright?"

"There's someone at the bridge," he pants.

Preston frowns, "settlers?"

He shakes his head, "No, he was asking for Clarke."

"What do you mean? Who—"

I stop as I catch a glimpse of the figure coming up from behind him. My mouth drops open and my eyes grow wide with astonishment and disbelief. I could recognize that skinny bastard anywhere.

I see, in the flesh, MacCready walking down the goddamned street. My mouth felt dry, immediately I could feel my heart pounding, threatening to spill out of my chest.

I step away from Preston, finding his gaze locked on me. My heart skips a beat. The way it always foolishly did when he looked at me before. He gives me a weak hopeful smile and half raised arms.

It almost seems normal, like how it used to be seeing him, but I know better. As he comes closer, I can see how pale he is, and the bruises lining his jaw with some ugly scratches on his face.

As soon as he's within reaching distance, I take a few steps back. My mouth dry, my hands shaking. "What are you doing here?"

He notices the distance I've put between us. He takes a step back, letting his hands drop to his sides. "It's Duncan," he tells me.

"What happened?" I ask, so worried I forget to look cold and fierce.

He lets out a deep breath, "the cure got to him in time," he says. He takes a step towards me, "you should've seen his _face_ , Clarke. All rosy and happy—"

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding as well. As he comes closer, I back up. And I felt like I didn't want to even look at him, happy news regardless. Something had broken between us.

Turning around, I see Sturges and Preston almost look like they wanted to blend into the neighborhood as I look at them.

I look back at MacCready. This was not the conversation I wanted to have in public, especially as a now-appointed General. "That's amazing, Mac." Then after a beat, "You've got a couple scratches, I've got some stimpaks in my house if you want me to take care of that."

I turn back to Preston and Sturges, "I've got this, guys."

Preston nods, tipping his hat. "You got it, General."

I turn back to MacCready and nod towards my home, "C'mon."

I keep my eyes down as we enter my house, closing the door behind him. "General, boss? You did a lot while I was gone, huh?"

As soon as it's closed, I take one stride towards him and push him backwards. "What. The. Hell?"

"Clarke — what the — ? Stop!"

I punctuate every word with another hit: " _What — the — hell?_ "

"Elenora!" MacCready says. "Calm —"

"Don't tell me what to do!" I point my fingers. "I begged you to stay, I _begged_ you!"

"I know," he says, backing up into the kitchen. "I'm sorry —"

"It's been weeks!" I shrill. "I didn't know if you were dead or alive, and dealing with the _shit-show_ of a family reunion that's been _my_ son, and all you say is sorry?"

"What else do you want me to say?" He says, gaining some confidence, fighting back.

"I don't know," I yell back with an awful sarcasm. "It's not like you didn't have the time walking back from the Capital Wasteland, you couldn't have come up with something then?"

"Okay, that's not fair—"

" _Whatever._ You told me you weren't ever coming back," I retorted. "'Nothing is keeping me here anymore', you said."

He lifts up his arms in defense, "what, is it so wrong for someone to change his mind?"

I stop suddenly, my face turning a deep red. "I don't know. But you don't run from the people who need you. You fight for them. You fight _beside_ them, no matter the risk," I spit. "I thought you of all people understood that. I guess not if your idea of a partnership is running while the world burns behind you. I don't care if you're sorry, you shouldn't have left. I — you were _needed_ here."

Although I meant it, it might have too much of a low blow. I huff and walk up to my counter, setting my hands down, looking away from him. The house is quiet, silence where my anger gobbled up the last bit of companionship left between us.

"You seriously think I didn't want to come back?" he says softly behind me. "I wanted to, since the moment I left. I knew it was dumb. I just — told myself to ignore it as I was going into Goodneighbor, but I got held up, okay? There was this group of Gunner assholes — _erg_ — jerks, and they recognized me. They wanted to kill me."

Turning, I raise my eyebrows coldly as he goes on. "I got away from them, and the mayor wanted to travel with me for a while. He helped me get to the borders of the Commonwealth, too. I bet he's back in Goodneighbor by now," he shakes his head. "Anyways I got home, I found Duncan, and I thought I was going to stay there forever."

I fold my arms, leaning back on the counter. Silence passes in the house. "What changed?"

MacCready opens his mouth but shuts it. Then he wordlessly takes a silver chain out of his pocket, connected to it are a few small charms. It's the present I got for him at Christmas.

"You kept that?" I ask, my voice rising.

He holds it in his palm, rubbing his thumb over a charm. "I found it at the bottom of my bag after I was with Duncan for a few days. And I knew I needed to come back." He explains. A couple of beats go by as we stare at the shitty-looking necklace.

"But… you were with your son," I say.

"I didn't leave Duncan alone," he says, a little offended. "He's with good people. I'll come back for him but… I still had business here."

My heart feels like it's been tugged on. "Oh."

He takes a hesitant step towards me. "You put a heart charm on this necklace, and I always wondered why. I mean, I can get the bottle cap and the soldier… But, when I saw it at that moment, I knew what it was supposed to be." He looks up at me. "I think it's supposed to be you."

I can feel my face turn a deeper shade of red, "what?"

He sighs. "Listen. I lost a lot after Lucy died, and I didn't think anyone could replace that, until I met you."

"MacCready—"

"Hold on," he says, pocketing the necklace. Then, he takes out another thing. It's the wooden soldier I've seen him with only a number of times. "Did I ever tell you how I got this?"

I look between him and the toy, "no."

"My wife made it for me a couple days after I told her I was a soldier," he says. "I wasn't, I've never been one, but I didn't want to tell her that I just a hired killer. I didn't want to lose her because of what I was."

It clicks, I look up at him in shock. "You lied to her?"

He looks away in shame. "The soldier story was the best thing I could come up with," he tells me. "But you, you weren't anything like that. You were just some lady from a Vault. That's nothing compared to what I was lying about."

This is a crucial moment for both of us: I feel like there should be some sort of defensiveness in me. That I should accuse him of being hypocritical, should accuse him of lying to his wife, of a thousand things he's done wrong. How could I look at him without malice of accusing me of the very crime he also did?

But there's nothing that exists in me other than relief. When I look at MacCready, all of the hate fades away. There is only him; I don't have to condemn him. There is a guilt in his eyes that cannot be spoken. He already knows he's done, there is a hell there that he has already placed upon himself. "Did she ever find out?"

"No," he tells me, his face going slightly reddish. "Sometimes I think she always knew, looking back. It doesn't really matter anymore, I can't ask her about it."

"Does Duncan know?"

He stares at the floor. "He's never going to," he murmurs, leaning on the counter next to me. "you were right, I was thinking about what I would say to you on the way back here."

I fold my arms together, "what'd you decide on?"

He sighs, shaking his head, looking down. "You didn't have to tell me about the Vault. I mean, at first you didn't, but eventually you did. More than I can say."

I loosen up, flicking my eyes up and down at him. "I always planned on telling you, I did. I just — It was such a big lie. And a _long_ lie. I knew I could lose you over it, and I didn't want to lose you, Mac." My voice becomes embarrassingly low. "I'm sorry." I rub my shoulders, and for lack of anything better to say next, I ask, "um — you still want a stimpak for those cuts on your face?"

He smiles. "That'd be nice."

A moment later, I've got him sitting on my couch as I'm splashing water on a rag and grabbing a stimpak. Sitting down next to him, I dab the rag on over the bruises and cuts along his jaw, his cheeks.

I work in silence for a moment, studying RJ's face as I go, the lines that ran to the corners of his mouth, lines that seemed prematurely deep for his age. "They don't look too deep," I murmur, "stimpak or two should take care of it."

I hand him a stimpak, and he injects it himself.

I bite my lip, hesitantly, I ask, "you said you didn't think anyone could help how you felt when Lucy died until me. Did you mean that?"

MacCready blushes, opens his mouth to speak, but there's a knock on my front door before he can answer. I hope that maybe if I ignore it, they'll leave and Mac will still answer the question, but neither of us could ignore the pounding of the third party in the house.

I don't have to answer it to know it's Preston. I can see him out my front window—easily without the curtains—waiting for me to answer.

"Wait there," I tell him, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice. Walking over, I open the door to Preston. "What's going on?"

Preston points to the radio beacon by the garage, "We got an urgent message from Sunshine Tidings co-op needing help. Ferals."

"You want me to check it out?" I ask, leaning against the doorway.

"I told them the General's making plans now," he says. Then he adds, "first chance to gather the people around you."

I look back into my living room at MacCready. Turning back, I hand Preston my Pip-boy. "Mark in on my map, I'll check it out now."

Preston smiles gratefully and takes the device, clicking a few buttons away. The location's only two hours from here on foot. "Good luck… General." The way he delivers it reminds me saying it hasn't become familiar to him yet. With that, he turns to leave.

As he leaves, I hear MacCready behind me: "Heading out?"

I put the Pip-boy back on my wrist, "distress call, I think. I dunno, it's all kind of new."

MacCready watches as I step into my kitchen to grab a couple boxes of ammo and my bag on the counter. "You need an extra gun?"

I turn around, "you really want to travel together again?"

He pauses. "I just want things to go back to the way they were."

I weigh my anger against the appeal of being near him. The crush wins. "I need to get some supplies. Meet me by the bridge in five."

He flashes me a grin, and leaves out the front door.

After I secure my stuff, in a few minutes I'm meeting him by the bridge. I take lead as we walk.

The air between us is awkward, there's not the air of comfortability anymore. That had been lost within the past few weeks.

"You did a lot while I was gone, huh?" MacCready says after a couple of minutes of walking in silence. "Joined the Railroad, General of the Minutemen… Lots of responsibility."

I hiccup a humorless laugh, shaking my head. "Yeah, I don't know how smart of a move it was on my part."

I fall in next to him. MacCready walks with shoulders hunched, head thrust forward. The road stretches before us, cutting across rolling farmland that will never be farmland again. "What's being a General like?"

I lightly huff, "I'll have to let you know sometime, I've only been one for all of twenty minutes."

MacCready snorts, impressed. "Damn, Clarke." I shoot him a look, and he lifts his hands in defense: _just a joke_. "Hey, well, you already have me as a follower. Look how well you're doing already."

"Not leaving anytime soon, then?" I ask.

"If you'll have me, boss," he shrugs off, like it's not a big deal.

I glance over at him, my heart burns in hope for what he's said. I try to bury it down as we trudge forward towards the settlement.

"The Railroad, the Minutemen..." I frown. "Shit. Ecotone."

"Ecotone?"


	24. Still Standing

"So — how is Duncan anyway?"

It is some sad start to a conversation with him. It's mid-morning, heading to Sunshine Tidings, under a cloudless sky, the temperature is in the mid-forties. You can feel it coming on your skin. _Spring._

MacCready side eyes me, "he's good. He's really good. When I came onto our farm and he saw me he actually started running towards me. _Running_. Can you believe that?"

I smile, "didn't you say last time you saw him he could hardly walk?"

He nods, "It's a damn miracle. I have you to thank for it, you know." We exchange glances, and despite the tension, we smile at each other. RJ goes on, "he looks older too. Taller and everything. It's weird."

I chuckle, "Shaun's a little taller since the last time I saw him, too."

MacCready's smile weans off his face. "How's your kid doing?"

I drag out a long sigh. "I think he's around sixty right now, age wise." Then I add because I felt the need, "he looks like Nate." I feel guilt the moment it leaves my lips.

However I expected him to react, MacCready isn't fazed. And he says something that almost changes how I see him: "Duncan doesn't look like me, either," he says. "He looks like Lucy... Between you and me, sometimes it makes it hard to look at him."

He gives me a weak smile. There's comfort in it. It tells me I'm not alone. "I feel that way, too," I say, hope rising in me that he understood. "I mean, I love him. I do. It's just hard to do alone. I feel awful, but do you ever see when they smile—"

"You see their face?" MacCready finishes.

"Yes," I say, empathy burning in my chest. A warm, happy feeling spreads all over my body and I can't help the smile that slowly works its way on my face.

"Damn, I missed you," I say accidentally out loud. I stop in my tracks and I can _feel_ the distance between us — folded up and crumpled and tangled.

MacCready's face goes pink, the smile slowly weans off him. The laughter dies on my lips too. A moment passes in our silence.

I shake my head, walking forward. "Anyways, he's in the Institute so I don't see him that often anyways."

MacCready catches up with me, we walk shoulder-to-shoulder. "What's it like down there? In the Institute?"

"Clean," I say. The first word that rolls off my tongue. "Looks a little pre-war, actually. Just better. Green trees, fresh water, showers…"

He whistles, "showers, boss? Do you get hot water too?"

I roll my eyes, "Yeah," I say. "But it's nowhere you want to go, believe me—" I begin, but I find we've already reached Sunshine Tidings by the time it leaves my lips. I stop talking and look for signs of ferals. There's a group hanging near the back of the settlement, banging on the doors to a cabin.

"Safety off, we got company," MacCready hushes, slinging his rifle off his shoulder, into his hands.

I pull out my ammo too, as we rush up to the side of a building for cover. I check my ammo, nodding to Mac to check if he's good. He nods back and takes aim, blowing a feral's head off with one bullet.

I follow suit, ramming bullets into the ferals as they come closer. Standing up, I rush towards the group as MacCready snipes the ones that threaten to get too close. I shoot at a feral clawing at the door, my stomach slightly turning as I hear a woman screaming behind the door for help.

Slamming my bayonet into the stomach of a feral that comes fast at me, hot blood sprays onto me. I jump back to try to avoid it, yet it still splatters on my clothes. Cursing, I yank my rifle free, shooting it in the head for good measure. Sprinting to the nearest building, skidding to safety behind a corner, I wipe the blood off my face with my free hand. "MacCready!" I yell, "take out the last two blocking the door!"

Without hesitation, RJ's bullets fly and lodge into the feral's heads, knocking them dead. I give him a thank-you nod, heading for the door as MacCready picks off the last feral stragglers.

I bust open the cabin with a few kicks, and the moment I do I find a woman—a very pregnant looking woman—shuddering in fear in the corner of the room. "You okay?" I ask, taking a few steps to her.

MacCready comes in just a moment later, and the woman gasps, pointing beyond me. I turn and find a feral reaching its hands out to throttle MacCready.

"Duck!" I cry.

MacCready goes down without question as I take aim and fire a bullet straight into the feral's forehead. It collapses backward, the head now a gory pulp.

MacCready slowly stands up as I lower my gun. "Elle," he says slowly. "I missed you, too."

I open my mouth to respond, but remembering there's a scared shitless pregnant woman behind me prevents me from saying some snark-ass comment. I help her up and ask her where everybody else in Sunshine Tidings is.

Sputtering, she tells me there are a few survivors in the barn. MacCready tells me he'll take care of it as I lead the woman over to the table, having her sit down. "You holding up alright?" I ask her, offering her a drink of water from my bottle.

She nods, gladly taking the water. "Good now, thank you," she says between sips. "We sent a distress call. Are you with the Minutemen?"

I shoot out my hand for her to shake. "General Clarke at your service, ma'am."

She shakes it as I wonder if that was too much. Then, because I have no idea what to say next: "When's your baby due?"

She pats her stomach, "next month."

I nod, "that's soon." An idea pops into my head. I go into my backpack, searching if I had any food left, and find a package of gumdrops, handing them to her. "I remember I had intense candy cravings my last couple months, these helped a lot."

She smiles thankfully, taking them. "You have kids?"

I nod, smiling back at her, "a boy." Then I look outside to find MacCready gathering the rest of the settlers at the large barn in the middle of Sunshine. "You good?"

She stands up, thanking me as we walk outside together. MacCready turns as the settlers look at us coming out of the cabin together. "Everything okay out here? Ferals are taken care of?"

MacCready nods, adjusting his hat. "Pretty sure. If I have to shoot another feral I'm gonna be pissed."

"Any casualties?" I ask, turning to a settler.

"One by ambush, a few injured," a settler says. He steps forward to shake my hand. "Name's Smith, I keep things running around here."

I shake it gladly, "General Clarke. This here is my—" I cut a glance to RJ. "—This is MacCready."

"You're the General? Didn't know Minutemen were even official to have a General."

"The Minutemen are official, no worries on that," I say, pride swelling in me.

"Well, that's good. We're glad you came when you did," Smith says. "Feral attacks usually turn fatal."

I nod, stepping to MacCready's side. "Does this mean we can count on you later down the road? That you'll want to officially ally with the Minutemen?"

"We'd love to, we like the security in it," he tells me. Then turning to the group, tells them that they've allied with us, thanks to the work of the General.

When all's said and done, MacCready and I make our way back up to Sanctuary.

We walk in silence for a while, but it is more comfortable that it was before.

Eventually, as we're nearing Concord, I say: "Nice shooting, back there." I shrug noncommittally. "Guess we still make a pretty good team."

MacCready smiles, elbowing my side. "Guess we do."

We arrive back at Sanctuary. I give Preston the updates, and he's overjoyed to hear we have some allies already.

When Minutemen business is dealt with, I find myself sitting on the steps to my front porch.

MacCready walks up next to me, in his hands are two bottles of Nuka-Cola.

I pat the space next to me as he sits down, handing me the bottle. I sip at it and see Dogmeat trotting up the street. When he sees MacCready again he barks and runs towards him.

"You have to pet him," I say as Dogmeat comes closer. "He hates to be ignored."

MacCready pets him. Then kisses him. Dogmeat licks his face, it was hard to say which of the two of them was more affectionate. Mac looked so happy, chuckling and rubbing his head. We aren't talking very much. I think we don't really know what to say to each other.

After a couple of minutes, when Dogmeat runs off, we alone sitting on the porch together. Then MacCready asks: "are we going to be okay?"

It takes me aback, "course we are," I answer. "We're partners, aren't we?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I say, smiling at him.

MacCready had this look on his face. He was grinning from ear to ear.

"I meant what I said back there," I tell him. "I did miss you... You're my best friend, Mac."

MacCready gets a sly look on his face, "You hitting on me?"

I push his shoulder, "No, but you wish!"

He cracks up and eventually gets me to laugh too, and we sit like that for a while, watching the bustle of Sanctuary in the last few moments of the day, and view the sun glimmering along the darkening edge of an infinite horizon.

"I should head back to the Institute soon," I murmur after a while. "Shaun should be missing me."

"You gonna be gone long?"

I shake my head, "maybe spend the night, nothing serious."

He nods, "do a couple jobs when you get back?"

I yawn, rubbing my eyes. "I am starting to run low on caps," I admit. "Sounds good."

"Stay safe, partner."

Standing up, I say my goodbyes to Mac and with only a few clicks of a button, I am gone in a flash.

* * *

The moment I'm in the Institute, I head to A.S first. As I'm turning to head into Advanced Systems, my heart light from the feelings of being with Mac, I see somebody curled up to their arms and knees a few feet away from the entrance, hiding behind a few old crates. It's even weirder when I recognize the figure as Synth Shaun.

Perturbed, I walk up to him. "What are you doing hiding out here?"

Shaun pulls his head up out of his knees, his eyes are red and puffy. My heart immediately burns in despair from seeing his face so miserable. I bend down to my knees, "what's wrong?"

Shaun doesn't meet my eyes, "Doctor Watson called me unnatural."

I frown, "what? He said that to your face?" What an asshole.

He shakes his head, "No, I overheard him talking to Ayo," he sniffs. "He said I was _unnatural_." His small voice squeaks out the word like he's ashamed of even the very thought. "He told Ayo that working in A.S was weird because of it. He doesn't even like me."

Shaun isn't a real boy by any means, but fuck, if some asshole scientist is going to make him upset on my watch because of it. "He did _what_?"

"Why'd he say that?" Shaun asks, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "What was he talking about?"

I hesitate, not sure if I could tell him the true nature of why he was alive, and Shaun's eyes well up with more tears. I panic, "He's an idiot. Don't listen to him."

Shaun shrugs his shoulders, "Maybe Doctor Watson was right. None of the other kids have to live in a lab. And they don't have to do tests like I do, I think."

"Doctor Watson's never been right about anything," I say defensively.

Shaun shrugs again, looking everywhere but my eyes.

I pause, setting my jaw. "I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna fire his ass out of Advanced Systems."

"Elle, no," Shaun says sadly. Shaun's eyes water, tears running down his cheeks, he wipes his eyes, and a short sob erupts from his lips that he stops pretty quickly. His face is red, "Sorry," he hiccups.

"Don't be sorry." I frown, putting my hand on on his cheek, running down to his chin, "Shaun, look at me."

He meets my eyes. "I'm gonna tell you something — Doctor Watson doesn't know you. The smart, kind boy I know you are. Watson just can't see it because he isn't it. Are you gonna believe a man like that?"

Shaun looks down, his lip quivering. _Don't you see?_ He tells me. _I already do believe it._

I lift his chin and make him meet my eyes again. So he'll know what I know for fact. "Are you gonna believe all the bad things he says about you?"

He gives his head a good shake. "No," he murmurs.

I nod, "Damn straight. You aren't unnatural, Shaun. You've got more heart in your little finger than some of these scientists have in their whole bodies."

Shaun smiles weakly, "you think so?"

"I know so," I say, rubbing his cheek with my thumb. "You have so much to look forward to outside of this one moment. Don't focus on it, you need to keep moving forward, okay?"

Standing up, I hold my hand out. "Come on, you come to my quarters until Doctor Watson's shift is over."

He lights up, "really?"

Shaun takes my hand, standing up. "I'll let you play some video games on my Pip-boy too, how does that sound?"

As we turn to leave for my apartment, I notice once Shaun took my hand, he didn't let go. So we head there together, hands linked together. "Thanks, Elle."

* * *

Shaun passes the time playing on my couch for a little while, trying to beat MacCready's high scores. "Who's _Mac-Attack_?" He asks as he tries, again and again, to get up to his leaderboard score.

I rub my eyes, pausing to take a break from my book. "Some dork," I answer.

He nods and continues working his thumbs at the controls. "That's cool."

"Are you getting tired?" I ask him, shifting my eyes over to the clock on that wall. "It's getting late."

Shaun pauses his game, "Do I have to go back to Advanced Systems now?"

I shake my head, "Not if you don't want to. Would you like to sleep here tonight? At least until you feel good enough to head back?"

Shaun pauses, "will Father get mad at me if I'm not there?"

I scoff, "Father can handle one night where you aren't there."

Shaun purses his lips, tugging them into a smile. "No one talks about Father like that."

I stand up, brushing my pants. "Well, I can be the first then," I tell him. "C'mon, you can sleep in my bed."

Shaun sets the Pip-boy down, heads with me into my bedroom, hops into the bed as I tug the sheets over him.

"How do you know Father?" He asks as I pull the blanket up to his chin.

I purse my lips, "This is going to sound weird—but he's my son, Shaun."

He makes a face. "But he's older than you," he says. "Wait, what does that make you to him?"

"Well, Shaun, that makes me his mother."

"What's a mother?"

I pause, "Li or Watson never told you what a mother is?"

He shakes his head.

I sit down on the bed. "Well… It means that I gave birth to him." I pause, "And it can mean a few other things as well. A mother is a woman who sacrifices her life for another life. Her comfort for someone else's. It's sacrificing for someone else's benefit."

Shaun nods, eyes asking me to go on. "And they are always there to help their children," I run my hands through his hair. "And they are always there to offer guidance and love."

Shaun smiles, "That sounds nice."

"It can be nice," I say. "That depends on the mother though."

Shaun looks like he's deciding on something, and then says finally: "I want a mother."

I laugh, "Okay, kiddo. It doesn't work exactly like that."

"How come?"

I stop. Suddenly, I want to promise him that. And then I immediately want to promise him a million different things. A home, a warm bed, a place where he doesn't have to be observed 24/7. A place outside of the Institute. Where he doesn't have to live in a lab or be called unnatural. A shot at a life. "Maybe you'll get one someday," I tell him, knowing damn well it's not going to be possible.

"You think so?" He asks.

"Sure," I smile.

Shaun beams. Then his looks distracted. "Are you gonna leave again soon?"

"Soon," I tell him. "But, you know, I think I want to be here in the Institute for a little while longer."

He grins, "with me!"

"With you, kiddo."


	25. The Kids Aren't Alright

I wake up with the synth child beside me. Must've fallen asleep accidentally while I was talking to him. His head is resting on my chest, curled up into me. I shift my head up enough to look at him. His breathing stills for a moment, and I hold my breath, afraid I woke him, but it's just a sigh, and he curls further into me.

I exhale, smiling. I run a hand through his hair, savoring the quiet moment. It's a good one too—for those few seconds when I'm awake, but empty. Forgot where I was, who I am now, who I was before. The boy's true nature, and my actual relationship to him.

I have to get up soon.

I pinch my eyes, rubbing them together. I open them and shift enough so I can get up without waking him up. I tug his blanket over him, right up to his chin before I leave.

I prepare for the trip back. I clip my Pip-boy back onto my wrist, I start packing my bag to get back to Sanctuary.

I hear a rustle from the bedroom, and a moment later, Shaun pokes his head out of the door, his hair sticking up on one side. Rubbing his eyes, he approaches me. "Are you leaving again?"

I nod, sticking a couple extra water bottles in my pack. "Have to go back up to the surface, kiddo. I'll walk you back to Advanced Systems before I leave if you'd like."

He yawns, "but do you have to go right _now_?"

I smile, smoothing the top of his hair down. "I always come back, don't I?" I say, slinging my backpack over my shoulders.

He nods, following me out the room as we walk down the stairs together.

When we get to the bottom of the stairwell, I take him aside, taking a knee in front of him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Now remember, if Doctor Watson tries to make you think anything about yourself that isn't kind, what are you going to do?"

"Not believe it," he affirms.

"Good boy," I smile, standing up. "C'mon, we should be getting back."

Shaun trails after me, walking side by side. "What are you going to do while you're gone?"

"I've got a friend waiting for me on the surface," I tell him as we pass through the Institute hallways. "His name's MacCready. I bet he'd like you."

Shaun nods. We pass by SRB on the way to Advanced Systems and Shaun tugs on my sleeve. "Hey, the Coursers are back!"

A group of Coursers file into the doors to SRB as we talk, chattering among themselves. I feel myself shrinking back even as I look at them. They're not an enemy here, but I'm quick to remember my last encounter with one. I wonder why Shaun would point it out unless he thought they were cool. "Do you want to go meet them?" I ask, hesitantly.

Shaun's eyes go big. "Oh, I dunno... Father says I'm not really allowed in SRB," he says, kicking the ground, fidgeting. "He doesn't like me going outside of Advanced Systems much."

I nod, looking towards the door. "Well, the way I see it, Father's in charge of you, right?"

Synth Shaun purses his lips, nodding.

"And I'm Father's mother. I'm in charge of him," I tell him. "Do you know what that means?"

"I can go inside?"

I smile, nodding. Shaun giggles, taking my hand and pulling me towards the doors to SRB.

As we're heading in, Synth Shaun whispers, "Have you ever met one?"

"A Courser?" I murmur, "I've...Um. Yeah. _Once_."

As we walk in, Shaun is the first to spot Doctor Ayo talking to a Courser on the opposite side of the room.

I notice that he's staring at him."You want to go say hello?"

Shaun shakes his head, "Not really. Doctor Ayo smells kinda funny," he says. Then his eyes go wide with guilt. " _Uh_ —don't tell him I said that, okay?"

"Cross my heart," I laugh, as a Courser comes over to us. He stands over 6'7", towering over the two of us. Probably genetically made to look so _damn_ intimidating.

"I'm sorry, no unauthorized personnel is allowed in SRB today," he tells me.

"Just visiting today," I tell him.

He squints, looking at me closely. "You're the Director's mother," he says in awe.

"Elenora," I say, holding out my hand.

"M9-77," he replies, shaking it. "I work in high-risk assault and retrieval operations. You must be proud of the work your son has done here."

I fake a smile, nodding. A good, strong, confident nod—I hope. "Yeah. Anyway. This is Shaun," I say. "He was curious about what you guys do here, maybe get a tour?"

M9-77 looks Shaun up and down, "This is highly irregular—"

"It'll only take a couple minutes, I'm sure," I say.

The Courser is about to speak again, but the door to SRB slides open, and we are both surprised to find Father filling the space.

The moment he sees me, he stands up a little straighter. "Mother," he begins. "I wasn't aware you were back."

"Hey, son," I say, smiling as he comes nearer. From our last conversation, there is a slight tension in the air. "We were just seeing if the kid could get a quick tour of SRB."

Shaun—the real Shaun—looks at the Courser. "If I recall correctly, I debriefed all divisions that our visitor was allowed full access to the Institute. That includes the entirety of the SRB."

"But, sir, Doctor Ayo said—"

One cross look from Shaun shuts the Courser up. "And if the child would like a tour, I'll allow it," he says,

M9-77 hesitates, but leans down, saying, "my squad is over there working on target practice. Would you like to come?"

Shaun's eyes go big, he looks at me, big brown eyes pleading. I smile, "Go have fun, I'll be here when you get back."

He giggles happily, walking off with the Courser. I laugh to myself, watching him go.

As they walk away, I turn to Shaun, he gives me a perplexed look, "What is the child synth doing out of Advanced Systems?"

"Don't worry, we were just walking back," I tell him. "he saw the Coursers and wanted to check it out."

Whatever thoughts he has, he shakes his head, seemingly letting it go. "I didn't know you were back," he says. "I was here for a meeting with Doctor Ayo. Originally, I was planning for it to be just us, but would you like to attend?"

It's a sign of respect, of some desire in him for me to be a part of his life. The last thing I want to do is attend an Institute meeting, but I care about our relationship more than the Institute. And beyond that, I have a morbid curiosity about what the meetings here entail. When you have a first-row ticket into the machinations behind the Commonwealth's boogeyman, you go to the damn meeting. "Lead the way."

Shaun takes a stride forward, into a large room. Inside already, there are some Gen 1 synths tidying up. Shaun sends the two synths away, leaving us alone.

Inside, there's a large table in the middle with a blue holographic map displaying the Commonwealth. The board is littered with red dots, scattered randomly across the map with checker pieces accompanying.

I take a stride forward, leaning into the table, observing it. "What's all this?"

"Strategic development," Father says coming up behind me. "This is how we plan field agent operations, locating escaped synths and bringing them back for retention. The red dots are cases of known escaped synths, the checkers represent the Courser teams we send out."

I look over the map, and I can feel a rush of adrenaline begin to tingle on my fingers and toes. That the Institute has such an advanced strategy planning is news to me, and not welcome news either. Immediately, my eyes shoot to check where Sanctuary is. No red dots, although a few nearby that's too close for comfort. I'm about to open up my Pip-boy to check if I can recognize where the checkers are, but Doctor Ayo pops in the room.

"Director," Ayo says, walking inside. "I wasn't aware our meeting was… open."

"Doctor Ayo, I've invited my mother to come to a few of our directorate meetings in the past," Shaun says, turning to greet him. "And I'd like to incorporate her as much as possible as we begin Phase Three."

"Sir, with all due respect," Ayo says, looking at me warily. "Are you sure you'd like to be discussing _that_ given all… present parties?"

Father looks back at me, "I trust her."

A guilty thought crosses my mind. _Should you?_

Shaun walks towards the board, examines all the pieces. "Are you ready to give your reports?" Shaun asks.

Ayo hesitantly moving towards the map. "...Alright. Intelligence suggests a new faction calling themselves the Minutemen are beginning to gain traction, but there are no immediate signs we should be concerned."

The mention of my Minutemen sends ice water down my spine. That the name of my people was on the lips and in the minds of people like Ayo disturbed me. It wouldn't have bothered me before, but things change once you become a General.

Ayo moves around, gesturing to a few spots on the map, "We're still dealing with the threat of the Railroad, we've got a few leads in the Boston Commons, and another in Salem."

I shudder. I try to hide it, but I could've sworn Ayo saw something in the corner of his eye.

Father nods, "Send SRB agents out to monitor all known situations."

"Immediately, sir," Ayo says, moving the checker pieces. A part of me relaxes as I realized none of the places they're checking are close to HQ.

"What of that rogue synth?" Father says.

"Ah, yes. A8-30. We've located her a few miles out from Lexington, holed up in some co-op. We're thinking a Minutemen affiliation, now, sir." Ayo says, "although it's hard to tell if she's received a mem wipe."

My eyes widen when I recognize the location. I needed to check, now. Folding my arms, I try to open my Pip-boy's map as discretely as possible. Sure enough, right where Sunshine Tidings co-op is, a little red dot lies on the map. I shut my Pip-boy off quickly, to avoid suspicion. By God, I am trying to keep my face and emotions level, but every fiber of my being wants to leave this room right now.

"Have you sent SRB agents out?" Father asks.

"We're sending out a dispatch tomorrow, once the Coursers from Salem return."

Now I want to bolt, but there's a cool quiet voice in my head telling me to wait. Sure, I can run. Chances are, I can zap out of the Institute before my son and Ayo realize what's happened. But leaving immediately equals suspicion, and I cannot blow my cover now, the Railroad would never forgive me. And beyond that, there is a more selfish reason. I just got Shaun back, and even as this conflict grows, I find myself unable to let him go.

"What happens when you deal with rogue synths?" I ask. I try to play it off as a curiosity, but I worry it sounded too distressed.

Shaun answers for me, he sounds almost happy that I'm taking an interest. "The main priority is securing the synth. Then they'll be dealt within the Institute. Thorough investigations are made into their dysfunctioning mechanics."

Whatever that entails. I nod slowly, smiling at him until he turns his attention back to the board. I cast a glance towards the door. If Coursers are leaving tomorrow, that means I've got less than twenty-four hours to warn the settlers at Sunshine—

Suddenly, from beyond the room, there's a loud cheer coming from behind the doors of the meeting room. I recognize the voice as the kid. I exchange looks with Shaun before we both file out to see what's happening.

It's coming from the Courser's gun range. I go in first, and see a small crowd of Coursers inside surrounding Shaun. In the middle of the noise I see Synth Shaun getting pats on the back from Coursers, and in front of him, a target completely zapped away. In the kid's hand? A laser rifle.

 _Who the hell gave the ten-year-old a gun?_ I push away a few Coursers to get a better look at him, Shaun catches my eye and waves at me excitedly, "Hey!"

"Are you alright?" I ask, coming closer.

Synth Shaun laughs. He's absolutely ecstatic. "Oh man, did you see me take out that target?!" He jumps, "It was _so_ cool, mom!"

Oh, shit.

My gut feels like it's been twisted around. I stare at him. Synth Shaun's face goes red, realizing what he just blurted out. I can feel Father's gaze behind me, how he must look, how he must feel—I can't even bring myself to turn around.

"Oh, I mean…," Synth Shaun's eyes dart around the room. "I didn't—I'm sorry—"

It takes a second for my brain to work again. "Oh, um. Shaun. It's okay," I say. "I'm just happy you had fun."

Synth Shaun smiles at me, but his gaze travels to my side and the smile disappears.

Father's voice speaks sternly beside me, "I _believe_ you've been away from Advanced Systems long enough."

I turn around too, and when I meet his eyes, I notice it doesn't match his tone. Although he sounds furious, his eyes show hurt, maybe even jealousy.

With a single head nod from Father, a Courser is already pulling him by the shoulder to go to leave. Synth Shaun and the Courser move quickly out, but I can see the boy squirming against the pressure on his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" I whisper to Shaun.

Shaun looks aghast, "What am _I_ doing?" he asks. " _I_ am disciplining that child."

I put a hand on his shoulder, "And I will discipline mine," I say softly. "Don't get mad. Let me take him to A.S."

Shaun purses his lips, furrowing his brow. He calls back the Courser. "Nothing like this again," he hisses.

I promise him.

When the synth boy comes back, I rush the synth back to A.S without another word, but my mind is far from this because I do _not_ need this weird son drama right now. I'm thinking about the co-op, how I'm going to protect the settlers against a full force Courser attack.

 _One step at a time, Elle. Just get him back, you can deal with this when you're back on the surface. Dear God, let me make it in time—_

As soon as I get Synth Shaun safely back in his room, I immediately turn to leave, but he calls out my name.

Slightly exasperated, I whip around, "what?"

Synth Shaun fidgets with his hands, "is Father mad at me now?"

"Oh—" I say. I shake my head, coming near him. "Of course not, kiddo. He couldn't be mad at you." That might be a lie. Shaun could harbor some sort of jealousy against him now.

"Did I make him mad at you?"

"Father's not mad," I tell him. "Don't worry about it."

Synth Shaun nods, looking at the floor, deep in thought. I'm itching to leave, but a calm voice in my mind tells me to _stop._ Take it easy for a moment, and ask him what's wrong.

"You okay, kiddo?" I ask. "What are you thinking?"

He hesitates. "Do you love Father?"

"Yes," I don't hesitate, I don't even faze.

"Well, what do you do if he doesn't love you back?"

 _Kind of an intense question, kiddo._ I sigh, a part of me afraid of that very thing. "I'll tell you a secret," I say, choosing my words carefully. "I'm not responsible for whether he loves me or not. That care has to come from him—not me."

Shaun scrunches his nose, looking at me quizzically. "I don't understand. Why do you love him if you know it's not the same?"

I mess up his hair a little, playfully. "That's kind of what motherhood is, kiddo. All you need to know is no matter what, my job is to care."

"Even when he doesn't?"

" _Especially_ when he doesn't."

"No matter what?"

I reaffirm it. "No matter what."

Shaun nods. I know he still doesn't get it, but that's okay. Maybe he'll remember these words later on, and maybe he won't.

Then he looks ashamed, "I'm sorry if you're gonna get in trouble because of what I said."

"Hey, look at me—" I say. "It's gonna be okay. Let me worry about it."

I sigh and realize I'm running out of time. "Okay, I need to go. You gonna be okay while I'm gone?"

Shaun puffs his chest out, more reassurance for me than him, I think. "I will."

I stand up, walking back to the door, "Remember what I told you yesterday about Watson?"

Shaun taps his temple, "I won't forget."

I smile, turning to leave. Synth Shaun calls my name one more time, and when I turn around, he's already running up to me, wrapping his arms around my torso, and nose digging into my stomach. At first, I'm taken aback, but hugging him back comes about as naturally as breathing.

It was a weird feeling I harbored in my heart in that moment, one that warmed my whole body. At first, there is guilt. He wasn't even my kid. He felt like it, though. I thought in that moment when I was with that boy: _This_ is what home feels like. _This_ is the feeling I so dearly missed. If I had to put it into words, I wouldn't even know how to begin. How could I explain it? It's like locating the starting point of a circle.

Or better, finding the first link on the chain of an old pair of dog tags.


	26. By The Elect of Leadership

When I finally reach Sanctuary, it's midday. I call MacCready, Preston, and Sturges into my kitchen for an emergency Minutemen meeting. The moment they are all inside, I close the door to my home, making sure we were alone.

"What's going on, General?" Preston asks as I approach the table.

I glance out the window, just in case. Then, when it's quiet: "I've got some bad news," I begin. "The Institute's planning an attack on Sunshine Tidings."

Silence passes in the house and all three of the men's face drop.

The first to speak is Preston.

"No," he whispers. "We are _not_ prepared for something like this."

"I know," I say uneasily. "They're planning the attack first thing tomorrow morning. A team of Coursers."

"Why?" MacCready asks, "Can't they find something better to do?"

I tell them about the SRB, my meeting, figuring out about the escaped synth.

Preston leans against the table, arms folded. "What do you want to do, General?"

"Sunshine isn't safe anymore now that the Institute knows about it," I say. "We need to evacuate all settlers out of the co-op. I was thinking we can relocate them back at Sanctuary. So, Preston, I want you and MacCready coming with me to move the settlers out. And to defend them if it comes down to it."

"One problem, boss," Sturges pipes up. "We might got the room for new settlers, but not the food or the bedding."

"You're right," I say. "Sturges, while the rest of us are out, make sure everything's ready for their arrival. I want you and the Long's to work on assembling some new beds. We can take out the furniture of the neighbors' homes to make room for it."

"How many are you thinkin', General?"

"At most?" I ask, "shoot for fifteen. I didn't get a head count while I was over there last, but there's a lot."

"Fifteen new settlers," Preston sighs, rubbing his forehead. "Goddamn."

"It's what we're working with here, Garvey," I tell him, my voice is shaking. "We don't get to choose, it is what it is."

Preston turns to Sturges, "Maybe we can get that movie projector working by the time everyone gets back here. Good boost for moral, don't you think?"

Sturges discusses it with him for a moment, chattering about how he can get the generator to work tonight if he worked on it long enough.

Sturges keeps talking. My fists tighten, as I fidget in my place. Without a word, MacCready brushes his finger against my knuckles, and I grab his hand. Our fingers lace together. I squeeze—hard. Like I'm in pain. He squeezes back.

I take a deep breath, "Okay," I say. "If this is getting done, it's got to be done now. Everyone knows what they're doing?"

A round of nods. "Let's move out, we've got a busy couple of hours ahead of us."

Preston and Sturges walk out and leave MacCready and me in the house together.

"Hey," MacCready says. "Everything alright?"

"No, I don't think so," I murmur, untangling my hand from his. "MacCready, what if getting them to Sanctuary isn't enough? What if they find us and I'm making a big mistake bringing them back here—"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down," he says. He looks me in the eyes, placing both hands on my shoulders. "They aren't going to find us."

"But what if they do?" I ask. "What if one of the Coursers sees me and tells Shaun? He wouldn't let me back in the Institute. I've been thinking about it, and every decision I could make seems to end badly for us."

"We're gonna win this one, okay? I promise," he says. "And you'll have me, right? Best sniper in the Commonwealth on your side. Does the Institute have anyone who shoots as well as me?"

I smile weakly. He makes it sound so easy, but both of us know it's not easy. "Well, definitely no one with your confidence."

"Hey. They'll be messing with the best," he jokes. When he sees it doesn't get a reaction from me, he looks at me hard for a moment. "Come here," he says, pulling me into a hug.

I wrap my arms around his torso. A moment of silence passes. "I don't know if I can do this," I murmur into his shoulder.

"We can," he tells me. "Of course we can."

I hug him back tight. This is not a matter of if we _can_ win this battle, but that we'll _have_ to. I have a responsibility towards those people—I'm their General. And in that, there can't be room for failure when death is a possible outcome.

Without a word, we break apart. When I look at MacCready, he looks nervous too, despite his big talk.

I step out of the house, MacCready, and Preston following behind as we cross the bridge on the way to Sunshine Tidings.

When we arrive, the settlers notice. I wear the authority of the General, and they recognize my title as they recognize my face.

"General? Weren't you here yesterday?" Asks one of the settlers, walking up to me.

"I need to meet with everyone in the settlement," I tell her. "Can you gather everyone here in five minutes?"

She looks nervous, looking at the three of us. She says she will, and within a couple of minutes, I've got the settlement murmuring among themselves about what this is all about.

I grab a crate from the barn and stand up on it. Everybody's looking at me, confusion written on all their faces. I wring my hands together and look to my side. There's MacCready's reassuring face. I take a deep breath and speak.

"Okay, listen up, everyone," I begin. Immediately, there's a silence in the crowd as they wait to hear. Everybody's listening.

"We've gotten word that the Institute is planning an attack on this settlement," I say as clearly as I can. "I'm calling for an emergency evacuation. Until the problem is dealt with, we're temporarily moving all of you to another settlement up north."

The crowd breaks out in chatter, I hear bits of scattered conversation all involving that boogeyman-inspired-fear.

"What does the Institute want with us?" A voice from the crowd calls.

"Apparently, there were rumors of an escaped synth here," I say. "The Institute wants them back."

"A _synth_?" One other cries. "We got _synths_? Who the hell is it?"

"Are they going to hurt all of us?"

"Not as long as I've got something to say about it," I tell them. But there's more chatter, fear, doubt, bubbling among them and threatening to boil over.

"Please listen to me," I say, trying to calm down the crowd. "We're here to protect you. That's our job. What matters is getting _everyone_ out safely until Sunshine is safe again."

Preston steps forward, "We're going to need each of you to collect your belongings. Clothes, blankets, anything you think you'll need. Don't burden yourselves with unnecessary things, only pack what you need." Preston looks at me, and back at the crowd. "That's it."

The settlers look at each other warily, and shuffle off, murmuring amongst themselves.

Preston moves back to me and whispers, "that could've gone worse."

I shrug, stepping off my crate. "We're not out of the woods yet."

For the next minutes, it is spent checking the settlers cabins, helping pack, advising them on what to bring. I remind them to pack light, that the walk to Sanctuary takes two hours, and can't be weighted down by anything unnecessary.

MacCready takes watch by the entrance, just in case. Preston is doing rounds, same as me. All the while, I'm checking my Pip-boy's clock, doing the mental math in my head. _If we leave in twenty minutes, we'll get to Sanctuary by this time, and get in around sunset…_

As I'm finishing my rounds, I knock on the door the last cabin. "Come in," the voice calls.

I step inside, greeted by that pregnant woman I met a day ago. She's sitting down. "Are you alright?" I ask.

"Just a little dizzy," she says. The woman frowns, packing up a ratty old baby blanket, stuffing inside her backpack. "It all seems so senseless now, on the run from the Institute."

"Desperate times, desperate measures," I say. I stall in the doorway, watching her work. "I don't think I got your name before."

She shakes her head, removing herself from the funk. "It's Jane," she says.

"You going to be okay walking today, Jane?" I say, walking into the room, passing her things to pack. "I can get my people to carry this for you if you aren't feeling well enough for it."

She places her hand on my stomach, looking thoughtful for a moment. "I'll be fine but... General, it's not fair," Jane begins. "People shouldn't have to run from things like this."

"People shouldn't have to do a lot of things," I say.

I know we're both right, but it doesn't make a difference. In a perfect world, the threat of the Institute wouldn't exist, and synths wouldn't be subjected to slavery. In a perfect world, mothers would get to raise their babies, and not worry about the threat of them being kidnapped. In a perfect world, everything would either be black or white, right or wrong, and easy to tell the difference.

But the wasteland is far from a perfect world. There's no place in the world like that, despite Shaun's beliefs. That place is only in our imaginations.

I notice the baby crib to the side of her cabin, all ready for delivery day. "I know running isn't what you want…but sometimes you have to have to do what's right for your kid."

Jane sighs, and takes a seat on her bed, rubbing her forehead, "I can't believe this is the kind of world I'm going to raise a child in."

"It's not gonna be easy," I tell her. But what do I know about raising children in the wasteland? Shaun was all grown up by the time I got to him.

That's when Preston steps into the cabin, "General?"

I turn, "What's going on, Garvey?"

"It's time to go."

I look back to Jane, "we'll be out in a minute," I tell him. "Can you give the announcement?"

Preston nods, heading out. From the windows of the cabin, I can see him standing out a crate, calling out to the settlers.

I watch him talk for a moment, and turn around to help Jane get her things. Suddenly, Jane gasps, letting out a cry.

"What's wrong?"

She grunts, clutching her stomach. "My baby—I think—"

There have been a shitload of _oh fuck_ moments since I ended up in the Wasteland, but this one has got to be the _oh fuck_ -est one of them all.

"Seriously?"

She cries out in pain. I make her lay down, I'm trying to stay calm for her sake, but I'm freaking out. "We need to get you a doctor," I tell her.

The cabin door bursts open, and MacCready runs in, gun cocked. "I heard screams."

"Put it down," I tell him. "She's got contractions."

MacCready lowers his gun. "Oh, fu—frick."

"I can't exactly control it—" Jane begins, her voice twisting into another heart-wrenching cry.

"Whoa, whoa, hold on, calm down," I tell her. "You're gonna be fine, okay? I'll be right back."

I pull MacCready by the arm into the opposite corner of the room, out of earshot. "This is _not_ fine," I whisper. "We don't have _anything_ here, hot water, blankets, not even a doctor that I'm aware of."

MacCready looks back at the groaning woman on the bed, "I can help."

When he sees the look on my face, he explains; "Lucy had Duncan while we were on the road."

I blink. MacCready is a lot more than I give him credit for. "You might need some help," I finally say. "I'll go see if anyone here is a doctor."

I step outside the cabin, running towards Preston at the entrance. "Everything okay?" he asks. "There were screams, I sent your snipe—"

"One of the settlers is pregnant," I say, not knowing where else to start. "She's going into labor."

"What?" Preston asks. "Now?"

"Yes, _now_!" I say, frustrated, I turn to the crowd. "Is anyone here a doctor?"

There's some murmuring in the crowd before a hand shoots up.

"Okay, that's perfect!" I say as the hand comes forth from the crowd. A wiry young woman comes out, looking nervous.

"I helped with injuries on this caravan I was apart of," she tells me. "I helped deliver a baby brahmin once."

My hope falls flat on its face. "Um. Same basic concept," I say. "I need you to find supplies around Sunshine to help. Anything."

"I'm on my way," she says, turning and running into the settlement.

I turn back to Preston, who looks worried. Preston says, "Don't we have to be out of here before nightfall?"

"We can't move her," I argue. I sigh, rubbing my temples. "Okay, here's the plan. You lead the rest of the settlers back to Sanctuary, I'll stay here with Jane and the others and make sure she's alright."

"What if an attack happens before?" Preston asks. "How long do you think it'll be?"

I shrug, "I'm not sure. Depends on how long she's in labor. We could be here for an hour, we could be here all night."

"We don't _have_ all night."

"I _know_ we don't have all night," I hiss. I stop myself, apologizing. "That's why I need you to get these people to Sanctuary for me. Make sure everything runs smoothly."

Preston looks at me, and the crowd of settlers. "By your orders, General."

I slap his shoulder, "Thank you," I say. Then I added, noticing the group of terrified settlers, "Good luck."

"Same to you," he says, as I run back to Jane's cabin.

I burst through the door, finding MacCready and the doctor getting set up near Jane. From MacCready's instructions, Jane takes a few deep breaths.

As they work, I keep watch by the window. Preston and the settlers begin to move out, heading down the road. Now, the real work began.

The first hour into the labor process is a lot of hand holding. Mostly from me. I swear my fingers are bruised by the end of it. "You're doing great, Jane," I tell her.

She takes a deep breath and then settles. "I need to sit up," she tells me.

I prop her up, and she rubs her stomach. To distract her from the pain I ask, "what are you hoping for? Boy or girl?"

She smiles, "a girl."

I cross my fingers, "here's hoping."

"I'm going to put some blankets on the bed to keep it clean," the doctor says, smoothing the cloth over the mattress.

It's a long process. By the time sunset hits, her contractions speed up. Five minutes apart, long breaks in between. Sometimes, she'll stand up to walk around the cabin, saying she feels claustrophobic.

A few hours after sunset, it's three minutes apart. Then two.

One minute apart. Jane is clutching my hand like it's her lifeline, she's screaming, telling me she hates all of it.

"Breathe! Okay, Jane?" I tell her. "Just keep breathing!"

"You're doing great!" The doctor says, "Now, get ready to push. One, two, three, _push_!"

* * *

The baby's cries fill the room, along with Jane's exasperated sighs. She got her wish. A baby girl.

"You did it, Jane," I smile at her, rubbing her cheek.

She nods, the trauma of birth still heavy.

"You have clothes for her?"

Meagerly, she points to the backpack in the corner of the room. Inside, I find a blanket and a nice cap. I rush back over to the baby.

I wrap some blankets around her, and a wool cap over her head. I make the blankets nice and tight, swaddling her. Then, I turn to Jane, letting the baby rest on her chest.

"Have you ever seen anything so perfect in your whole life?" Jane asks me, tearing welling in her eyes. Her smile, her laugh, it's so genuine and joyful that for a moment I almost forget our situation.

With the baby delivered, it's as if all the day's tension has suddenly been released. The doctor plops on the ground. MacCready cuts the umbilical cord.

I look out the cabin window, MacCready walks up to me. The two of us watch of the sun break over the horizon, obliterating the dark in a burst of golden light. _Sunrise_.

"We don't have much time now," I murmur.

MacCready looks at me, I can see in the corner of my eye. I look at him too. I flick my eyes back to the window, "Elle—"

Then—Movement. I see it. Slight, but there. I shush him, "hold up," I say. I squint at the horizon, "I think I see something."

He squints too, and together we see a single Courser walking into the settlement, sporting one of those large-looking Institute rifles.

Shit. We're cornered, and with hardly any firepower on my side. I need an infantry. I need an _army_.

There are two more Coursers that comes up the hill along side him. One points to the other, motioning for him to follow.

I push MacCready's shoulder down, out of eyesight. The cabin goes silent. The Courser's have invaded Sunshine.

The new mother and the doctor stared at me. It is the mantle that comes with General. I am wearing Preston's hand-me-down authority until they realize it doesn't fit.

 _But it needs to fit,_ a voice tells me. _When the welfare of others matter, of_ course _it must fit._

I look at MacCready, eyes asking what to do. I bite my lip and take a deep breath. Before I can say anything, the doctor whispers to me: "General—"

I shush her. I raise myself slightly to look out the window. The group is clumped together, approaching the barn in the middle.

" _General_ ," she murmurs.

"What?" I hiss.

She bites her lip, and spits out, "It's—It's me. I'm the synth they're looking for. If I go out and surrender myself... maybe they'll leave."

I stare at her. There's an ugly pause. Then—"No."

"No?" She shakes her head. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I mean, no," I say firmly. "You may be a synth, but you're a Minuteman first."

She stares at me, and for a split second I regret saying it. Part of me really, _really_ , does not want to fight today. Part of me doesn't want to risk my life in a firefight. But this isn't just about one rogue synth. This is about the Institute taking whatever they want, whenever they want. This is about nobody having the grit to fight against them yet. This is about the Minuteman making a stand.

This is about me realizing for the first time, that just because I love my son desperately, it doesn't mean I have to help his cause.

I turn to Mac, "we'll sneak out the back window, I have a plan."

A few moments later, I'm getting into position. I hide behind the mess hall building as MacCready, a couple feet away has his scope up, pointing at one of the Coursers. He'll continue pointing until I give him the signal.

I keep my eyes focused on the Coursers. The confusion on their faces: " _Where is everyone_?"

One of the Courser's turn, eye's squinting. "This isn't right."

I check how much ammo I've got in my rifle, thinking about how I'm going to go around this. _Just distract them while MacCready fires the shots. Stay out of sight, if they recognize you and get away, Shaun will be the first to know._

I sneak a glance from behind the building, looking into the faces of the Coursers. The face of fear. My panic was gone. My fear dominated. Survival was at hand.

The signal: I shoot my fist up. Without hesitation, MacCready fires from his rifle. A clear shot to the head.

The Courser falls limp, causing its buddies to scatter. Then it's my turn. I pick up a rock, and chuck it at a cabin window, far away from where RJ and I are.

One of them shoots at the window, running towards it. The other hangs back, defensively moving back towards the settlement entrance.

As they scramble, each of them running off to hide, I flip my coat hood up. If one of them recognize me, that's it for me and my free trips to the Institute.

 _Pock-pock-pock!_ MacCready's shots whizz through the air, marking their targets perfectly.

I dart behind the settlement homes, coming up near where the second Courser is. In my hand, a frag grenade I've borrowed from MacCready. When the Courser comes close enough, I pull the pin out and throw it. I duck, shielding my head as the explosion rips apart a chuck of the house. I run away, behind another house before I can be spotted.

When I'm far enough away that I'm sure he can't spot me, I hug the edge of a house's wall. Slowly, I peek out from behind the corner of the house to see if I got the Courser. I look around. But I can't find him. I frown—where is he?

Something smashes into the base of my skull. My vision goes spotty, my teeth clack. I see stars. I crash onto the ground.

By the boot of someone's shoe, I get flipped over. There's a squeamish feeling pitting itself in my stomach, pairing badly with the pain settling in my head. Above me, I see the Courser and the barrel of his rifle. Then, there's a slight hesitation in him. "I _know_ you."

I raise a hand above my eyes, "please…"

"The maker's...mother—?"

 _Pat-pat-pat!_

I squeeze my eyes shut when I hear the noise, but when I look again, I see the Courser has crashed to the ground, glassy eyed, and a round of bullets shot into his chest cavity.

My sniper rushes up, offering me his hand. "You okay?"

In that moment, I stared at him like he was the most beautiful man in the world. Who needs an army when you've got a heart like RJ MacCready's?

He helps me up, but I'm still dizzy from the blunt force of the rifle. "I don't feel…" I begin, swaying on the heels of my feet. I have to tug on MacCready's sleeves to stay upright.

MacCready shushes me, throwing my arm around his shoulder. "C'mon, let's get you inside."

I nod sluggishly, "where's the third Courser?"

MacCready stops. "I thought _that_ was the third Courser."

And then, as if right on cue, we hear yelling. MacCready helps me to the side of the house, so we can see what's happening. It's that damn doctor. Her hands are raised in surrender. She's giving herself up.

The last Courser has his gun pointed at her. "A8-30, initialize factory reset," he says. "Authorization gamma 7-1-epsilon."

She goes as limp as a ragdoll.

I go for my gun at my hip. I raise it, lining up the crosshair with his head. I fire a shot. But the Courser is already beginning to relay back. I keep shooting rounds, I get a shot on his shoulder. There's a flash of blue light, and then—gone.

My legs quiver, the shock of it all makes me feel numb. Thank goodness MacCready's still got me linked against his shoulder, because I wanted to fall to the ground and weep. That dumb woman surrendered. And I couldn't help her. They got away too fast.

"They just—" I begin. "They just _took_ her…"

MacCready shakes his head, "C'mon. We need to check on Jane."

He half walks, half drags me back to Jane's cabin. When we open the door, we find Jane slicked with sweat. There's a pool of blood growing under the sheets. "General," she calls weakly.

I unhook my arm around MacCready, walking up to her bedside. I have to sit down next to her to help with my headache. Looking at her closer, I can see what's wrong. Her face is pale, there's a dribble of blood near her mouth. On her chest, the baby whines softly. "General," she moans. "I'm—"

I press two fingers against her neck, feeling for a pulse. Her heartbeat is uncommonly fast. My eyes widen. I look back to MacCready, who approaches the bed hesitantly. "What's wrong?" I ask.

"I don't… I feel weak." Jane turns her head to cough, wheezing for a moment like it's taking all of her energy. "Did you stop them?" She murmurs.

I bite my lip, nodding. What else can I tell her? "Yep. Institute will be on the run, now," I smile weakly. I rub the baby's cheek with the pad of my thumb. "How is she?"

Jane's bottom lip quivers, "General. I can't…" Her eyes begin to droop. "I need you to take her."

My heart clenches. "MacCready, get a stimpak," I finally say. A strangled cry out of my throat. I turn my head. He's just standing there in shock. "MacCready, _now_."

I turn back to Jane, but she's just shaking her head. "I don't think that's going to do much for me."

"Yes, it is," I say harshly. I don't think I entirely knew what was happening to her, some sort of heavy blood loss. But nothing that stimpaks can't fix. I have had too many losses today, and I can't bear another. I whip my head back. "MacCready, hurry up!"

My yelling causes the baby to cry. Meanwhile, Mac fumbles into his backpack, searching for one. Jane grabs my hand, she squeezes as tight as she can muster. "Listen to me. I want my baby to have a chance. Even a tiny little chance in this big, messed-up world. You've got to promise me."

MacCready finally fishes one out, taking it out, stabbing it into her arm. But something tells me she doesn't need stimpaks. To live, she would need a massive blood transfusion. She won't get one.

I stare at her helplessly. It's more than I can handle. The air seems to be knocked from my lungs. I'm trying to remember how to breathe, to speak. There's no point in telling her she'll be alright, she's not an idiot. Without another word, she passes me the baby. She whines in my arms, her little arms swiping across her face.

Jane, by all means, is a stranger to me. I met her two days ago. But if all that knowledge gets thrown out the window when I looked at her just then. I can see myself in her; that same basic fear every mother must feel when their baby is born. That same fear I felt when Shaun was taken from me. The fear that you will not see your child again, that it's not going to be you raising them.

I notice the blood stains on her sheets. She's bleeding out, she's _dying_ , this I'm sure of. This happened to me too while delivering Shaun, but I had a hospital. Jane does not. Jane faces her demise in an old cabin, dirty, and surrounded by strangers. I press my hand to her ashen cheek. Her skin is hot to the touch.

So the baby is born, but Jane must die because of it. Suddenly, I am reminded of something I told synth Shaun two days ago when he asked what a mother was. _A woman who sacrifices her life for another life._ At the time, I meant giving up a job, time, comfort. But now the definition becomes very literal.

This is what Jane did. She died in the sacrifice for someone else's benefit.

"I promise," I tell her. And I mean it.


	27. That Good Night

I bounce the baby in my arms, shushing her. She whines still, but it's softer now. I rub her cheek with the pad of my thumb. The baby's eyelids get heavy, as she struggles to keep them awake. I catch up to MacCready.

"So," MacCready begins. "Which one of us is going to tell Preston we're probably at war with the Institute?"

I avoid his gaze, keeping my eyes glued to the ground, shuffling forward.

"No?" Mac says, nudging my elbow.

"Hey, don't look at me."

He drags out a long sigh, "Well. He's going to kill us."

We trudge forward through the wasteland. We take the route under the abandoned highway to get back quicker. MacCready notices how I'm getting slower, and holds out his hands. "I'll hold it," he says.

I hesitate, but exhaustion causes me to give in, passing him the baby. MacCready's no stranger to babies, he handles her expertly.

"What am I going to tell the settlers when we get back with just a baby," I say hollowly. "They're gonna know I failed. I _did_ fail."

"We did the best we could," MacCready says. I think it's an attempt to make me feel better, but it just makes me feel worse.

"Our best wasn't good enough," I murmur.

MacCready sighs. "C'mon, you'll feel better when we get to Sanctuary."

I glance at the baby in RJ's hands. What the hell were we going to do about that? A thought crosses my mind that maybe we could see if one of the other settlers would take her, give her away…. And yet the thought makes me uncomfortable. I don't own this baby anything. She's mine by the elect of leadership, not biology. I don't want her, but I can't stand the thought of someone getting the baby who wants it even less than I do.

And even that thought makes my stomach feel all twisted up too. I want to tell MacCready that last night and this morning might have been some of my worst hours in the wasteland so far, but it feels pointless to say that. We have both had so many bad nights to choose from that none feel strong enough to claim champion.

We finally reach the bridge to Sanctuary, and at the end of it, is Preston. He waves when he sees us on the horizon, but as we get closer, the smile on his face vanishes.

"What happened? Where are the others?" Preston asks.

We explain. With Jane, the baby, and eventually the courser's finding the synth.

Preston stares at us. "Damn. That's… that's some better word than depressing. Things have been a little better here, we're getting them all settled in."

"Did you get beds made for all the new settlers?" I yawn, as we walk into the Sanctuary together.

"Sturges is working double time on it now," he tells me. "We've got almost all of them made. The rest have found couches and slept on the floor last night. A lot of them thought you were a goner. They'll be happy to see you again."

We turn up the road, the faces of the new settlers stare at us as we walk down the road. I can only catch a bit of what they're saying, but they're obviously shocked that two of their settlers didn't come back. And the baby isn't helping.

"Sturges got the projector working too," Preston mentions as we head up my driveway. "We've been searching the neighborhood for some, but if you've got any old holodisks in your house, that'd be great."

In MacCready's arms, the baby wakes up and starts wailing for all it's worth. He starts bouncing it in his arms, but to no avail. Instead, Mac just heads inside my house, and I tell him I'll be in in a minute.

"Anything else?" I murmur.

Preston nods, "Yeah. How long were you planning for all these people to stay in Sanctuary?"

I pause. I actually didn't think about that. The only thing on my mind was getting them out, not long term. "I don't know how safe Sunshine Tidings still is," I tell him. "We can keep them here until the end of the week and then start planning."

Preston nods and pats my shoulder. "Hey," he begins. "Good work today. We coulda lost a lot of people today if you hadn't been there."

I smile weakly, despite how I feel, knowing that Preston is proud somehow helps. "I need to take care of that kid in there," I tell him, then pointing to the settlers. "Can you manage them?"

Preston salutes to me. "General," he says before walking off.

I rub my eyes, stepping inside. The baby is wailing in MacCready's arms. MacCready's trying to shush it, but it's not doing a lick of good.

Just then, Codsworth zooms in from the laundry room. "Mum!" He cries happily, "you found a _baby_!"

Mac bounces her in his arms but to no avail. She bawls, crying harder when he tries to shush her.

"I think she's hungry," I say.

MacCready's eyebrows furrow, as he looks at the baby thoughtfully. He passes her to me. "Give me a second," he says, and then walks out the door. A couple of minutes later, MacCready reappears with a bucket of brahmin milk. Without saying a word, he heads into my kitchen, taking out a bowl.

"What are you doing?" I ask, bouncing her in my arms.

He walks to the table, takes the brahmin milk and pours it into the bowl.

"It's not a cat, you know," I tell him as he takes the bowl over to the table. "It can't drink from a bowl."

He shushes me, going through the drawers, searching until he finds a spoon. And then takes the baby from me, sitting down, he cradles the baby skillfully and then dips the spoon into the baby's mouth. The baby begins to gag on the milk, coughing and sputtering, but then MacCready puts his index finger into its mouth. It sucks on his finger and closes its eyes, satisfied. In a few moments, he crooks his finger enough to leave a little space for him to spill in another spoonful of milk, then lets the baby suck on his finger again.

"Whoa, where'd you learn that?" I ask.

He looks up at me and Codsworth but returns his attention to the baby. "When Lucy died, I had to get… creative with feeding Duncan. Learned a few tricks in the process."

I look at him, impressed, "that's pretty resourceful."

There's an awkward pause. MacCready sighs, rubbing her cheek. "Let's just hope it's not lactose intolerant."

I stare at the little baby sucking away at MacCready's finger. "Are you sure that milk is good for her?"

"Well," MacCready sighs. "Duncan was okay for a while. We can go scavenging for formula tomorrow if you want."

With the baby quieted, I can feel my eyes grow heavy. I sit down next to MacCready, wrap an arm around Mac's shoulder, leaning in to get a closer look at the baby. I smile at her, and when I look up, I find Mac gently smiling at me.

I notice my hand is still on his shoulder. I take it off. "You're good with her," I tell him.

"Haven't held a baby since Duncan," he admits. "It's weird, it's bringing back all these memories I didn't even know I remembered."

I smile. "Well, Jane seems to like you."

"Clarke, no," MacCready says. "Don't do that—"

"Do what?"

" _Name_ it," he says. "You're gonna get attached to it," he says, annoyed. He gets the baby's attention again with another spoonful of milk and his index finger.

"What, are we going to refer to it as 'the baby' forever?"

"I'll name it!" Codsworth volunteers.

MacCready shoots him down with a grouchy look. Codsworth stops, "Should I go in the other room?"

"Maybe for now," I tell him. Codsworth motors out of the room, this time a bit deflated.

RJ sighs, returning his attention back to the baby. "We can't keep it, Clarke."

"I know that," I defend. "But I made a promise to her mom that I'd make sure it would be safe. I won't let this baby starve or die. I won't."

RJ looks upset, "What, and you think _I_ want that?" He asks, his voice rising. The baby whines a little with the noise, so MacCready tones it down. "It's just—what are we going to do with it?"

"Codsworth could babysit," I offer.

Codsworth pops his head up from the laundry room. "I would _love_ to babysit!"

We both shoot pointed looks back at the robot. A beat passes. Codsworth slowly zooms back into the room.

"I mean a _real_ plan," he says.

"Codsworth is very reliable with that sort of thing," I reply.

"He has a flamethrower on one of his arm motors."

"I have excellent caregiving protocols installed in my system!" Codsworth sing-songs from the other room.

There's silence between the both of us. "Codsworth?" I call.

Codsworth zooms into the room. "Yes?"

"Could you go outside for a moment?"

Codsworth pauses. And then motors out the front door. The door slams shut and leaves MacCready and me in some sort of stalemate.

"Look," I begin, rubbing my neck. "I don't want to argue with you. We've only had this baby for a few hours. And between staying up all night delivering her, and the exhaustion from the attack, I _really_ don't feel like doing any lost-term planning right now. Can we please do that after we take a nap?"

MacCready sighs, and nods his head. He's tired too, of course he is. He waits until the baby refuses to keep eating until he hands her off to me.

I place the baby's chin on my shoulder and pat her back. "Thank you," I murmur.

We both sit in silence, the only thing interrupting it is the baby's squeals and burps.

"Maybe we can get Codsworth to babysit," MacCready tells me, yawning. "At least for a couple hours."

"That sounds really good," I agree.

We put the baby down in Shaun's old crib. Codsworth agrees to watch her while MacCready and I pass out.

* * *

A couple hours later, Codsworth wakes me up. "Mum?"

I rub my eyes, propping myself up on my elbows. "What?"

Codsworth presents a number of holodisks in front of me. "Preston was asking. And I have a number of holodisks I've salvaged and found since the day of the bombs! Would you like to pick one?"

I make myself sit up, swinging my legs over the bed. I look at the array and pick one up. "This one," I tell him.

"Fantastic choice, mum!" Codsworth comments. "Would you like to hand it off to Preston now?"

I nod slowly, waking myself up. "Sure. Um. Where's the baby?"

"Mr. MacCready is with her now," Codsworth chirps. "Although, I do worry that he's not holding her as well as _other_ parties in this house could… I'd like to recommend myself up to the task—"

Pocketing the holodisk, I hop out of bed, heading into the living room. MacCready sits on the couch, doing that spoon-finger trick again. My heart melts a little.

"How long have I been asleep?" I ask, stepping inside the family room.

"A few hours," MacCready tells me but returning his attention back to the baby. "I just woke up, too."

"You holding her alright?" I joke, laughing slightly "Codsworth is worried."

"Codsworth is gonna blow a fuse or something," he mutters under his breath.

I nod, watching him work for a bit. "Listen, I need to head out for a bit," I tell him. "Check up on the settlers, see if Preston needs help."

MacCready tells me he'll handle the baby. As I open the door out, I find Preston by the garage. I walk over and hold up the holodisk triumphantly. "I got you a movie," I say, handing it over.

He takes it, smiling. " _Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope_ ," he reads. Then he frowns, "why'd you get the fourth one? You know none of us have seen the first three, right?"

"No, the fourth movie is technically the first movie," I explain.

Preston squints, "that sounds wrong."

I shake my head, "You'll love it. That's what matters."

Preston sighs and examines the DVD one more time, "I will never understand pre-war stuff."

I laugh, "So how is everyone settling in so far?"

Preston turns to Sturges to answer. "We're gonna have to get more of a food supply, but other than that, it's okay."

"You guys need help with the bed situation?" I ask.

"Three more and we're done," Sturges tells me. I walk over to him, grabbing a screwdriver to help.

"By the way," Sturges says as he finishing up the frame on a bed. "Preston tells me you picked up a baby from Sunshine Tidings."

"Does everyone know about that?" I ask, handing him a frame-piece.

"Well, we leave you with a pregnant woman, and you come back just with the baby?" Preston asks. "People notice, General."

I look around Sanctuary, staring at the new settlers, walking around, talking with each other. "One of their own got taken by the Institute," I murmur. "How do I even begin to explain that?"

"I think they're figuring that one out for themselves," Preston whispers to me.

I turn my attention back to the bed, feeling the heat on my cheeks. "I'm just praying this movie-night thing helps."

Sturges winks, "that's the plan anyway," he says, putting the finishing touches on the bed. "Okay. This one's done. Let's move this one out."

* * *

A couple hours later, after sunset, and with dinner served, Preston and Sturges tie a white sheet between two trees to project the movie.

Preston's taken out all the couches and chairs from the houses, setting them out like an outdoor movie theater.

Codsworth offered to watch the baby while we watch the film. From outside, I can hear the title music blaring, signaling everyone to quiet down and listen.

I set baby Jane down in Shaun's crib. Then, I spin the mobile for her. A squeaky old lullaby plays, calming her into sleep. I turn to MacCready in the hallway and give a thumbs up. He gives me one back.

I slowly step out of the nursery and out into the hallway. "I think she's asleep," I tell him.

He nods, and in the barely lit hallway, I think I can catch him smiling. I can feel the heat on my cheeks. "What?"

"Did you really mean what you said in your letter?" he asks.

I frown, "what are you talking about?"

He pulls out a crumpled, folded up envelope. It's been ripped. Pieces of it are held together with tape. That letter I wrote a couple weeks ago during a particularly low day. "What's happened to it?" I almost laugh, taking it from him.

"Daisy happened," he says.

I frown, looking up at him for an explanation. And rather embarrassed looking, rubbing the back of his neck he says, "Before I left, I might have told Daisy I didn't want anything to do with you anymore. I guess when she got your letter she ripped it up. Lucky for me, she stuffed the pieces in her pocket and forgot about it. When I came back, she told me about it. Took a while to put back together, but…"

I look at the letter again. The messy taping job. I shake my head, "the whole letter is kind of a blur, to be honest," I tell him, handing it back. I don't remember half of what I wrote.

MacCready taps his chin, "a couple parts stood out," he smirks. "There's a part where you talk about wanting to kiss me… How I was your hero…"

I can feel the heat on my face, "How you were my—?" Then I remember. I try to snatch it from his hands, but he laughs, keeping it out of my reach. He's eating this up.

"So now you remember?" he chuckles.

"You—you were in the Capital Wasteland!" I defend. "I didn't think I'd see you again! You didn't..." I say, giving up on trying to get the letter back. I end up just covering my face with my hands so he can't see me blushing profusely. "But… Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"In case you haven't noticed, partner," MacCready chuckles. "We haven't exactly had a ton of alone time where I can bring it up."

I groan, burying my face deeper in my hands. MacCready laughs, coming up to me, grabbing my wrists. "Hey, hey," he says, coaxing me out of my hands. He presses his lip to my forehead. "It's okay, reading it made me realize something."

I pop my face out of my hands, "what?" I say miserably.

He smiles, "Being with you makes me happier than I've ever been before," he tells me. Our faces are so close, I could bump noses with him if I shifted. "And I don't want to lose it."

A hopeful feeling stirs in my heart, one that warms me up. "You don't?"

He softly shakes his head. "I mean—I don't know if you still want it, though. You wrote the letter a few weeks ago, and you've got a lot on your plate right now. Maybe—"

In response, I stick my chin out and press my lips against his. I place my hands on his cheeks and pull him into me, deepening the kiss. And MacCready kisses me back, hands wrapping around my waist.

I pull away for a second, and MacCready's head follows. When I open my eyes and smile, I tell him "yes," using my thumb to caress his cheekbone.

"Yes…?" He says, a bit dazed.

 _A bit too excited there, Clarke._ "Yes, I still want it," I explain. "Yes, I don't want to lose it either. Yes to the possibility. Yes to something with you."

He laughs, pressing his forehead against mine. "You are a lot more eloquent at this than me, Clarke."

I stare at him for a moment. "I meant everything I put in that letter," I tell him. "I didn't say anything just to say it, okay?"

His face grows a little more somber, he stares at me right back. "I believe you."

I smile gratefully at him. The kisses that follow are sweet and hopeful. RJ kisses my lips, my cheeks, my nose, relishing and kissing harder the more I giggle.

I shush him, pushing on his chest. "If you make me wake that baby, I will kill you," I joke.

"You couldn't. You like me too much," he smirks, planting a kiss right below my jaw. I cave, suppressing a laugh.

" _RJ_ ," I chuckle. I pull my head away, but my hands are still clasped around his neck. "C'mon, Preston's got the projector set up. You like _Star Wars_?"

"The hell is a _Star War_?"

I take his hand, pulling him outside. We find a seat on a free couch outside. As the movie begins, there's a couple cheers from the settlers. A lighter feeling floats in Sanctuary. A better feeling than the one they all experienced just a day ago.

As I sit down, Mac sits next to me. His hand falls over mine and I turn in to it. I flip my hand over. He flexes his fingers so I can fit mine in the gaps between. And we sit there, shoulder to shoulder.

I sandwich his hand against my stomach and wrap my other hand around his arm. My head falls on his shoulder. He nuzzles his cheek in his hair. I giggle. He nuzzles harder.

It is nice to be with him like this. It is simply nice knowing that someone is yours. Not in the sense that you control him, or own him. He is yours because you can say anything you need to him, whenever you need to. When I lift his hand up to my lips to kiss it, I don't have to wonder if it's okay, because of course it's okay.

And I think to myself that _this_ is what I want. _This_ is the happy part I need every so often. With life so full of death and combat, it's easy to forget that there are breaks too. I have found the Commonwealth to be both simple and complicated. It is heartrending and frightening. And it is beautiful and it has moments like this. It has MacCready, it has my wonderful Minutemen, occasional movie nights, and the sounds of baby's laughter.

This is the trick to life; to find happiness in the hell.


	28. The Hand You're Dealt

When the movie ends, we help Preston clean up the projector. Before long, MacCready and I are heading back to my home, talking about the film.

MacCready loved it, rambling on about how cool it was, asking if it was based on true events. If that was what life was like pre-war as we walk through the front door.

I giggle, "Not exactly, no," I say, closing the door.

MacCready shrugs, "Damn. Still. I'm glad we got to do that."

"Definitely helped with morale," I say. "It was nice seeing everyone enjoying themselves for a change."

"Maybe we should do movie nights more often," he says walking towards me.

"Maybe we should," I grin.

RJ smiles, putting a hand on my hip. I closed the gap, pressing my lips to his. And then I was kissing him like I never had before, and he was kissing me back. Everything else seems to disappear. My hands wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to me—

Nearly as quickly as we begin, we stop. Out from the hallway, there's a noised _beep!_ and we jump apart.

" _Mum!_ " Codsworth says pointedly. "Oh! Excuse me, I was just coming in to see how the movie was."

It felt as if my face caught on fire, humiliation sears through me. There was a strained silence. "It was fine, Codsworth," I murmur.

Codsworth skips a beat. "...Right-o!" He says, "I will just… clean the bathroom," and without another word, the robot hovers out of the hallway, and into the bathroom, away from the two of us.

I look over at MacCready, wanting to say something, though I hardly knew what. I would never live that down. It wasn't so much of the fact that I was caught with him, that's not what embarrassed me. It was that Codsworth has seen me with Nate, too.

RJ rubs his face, chuckling slightly. "So. Your robot is smooth."

I sigh, setting my hands on my hips. "He means well," I murmur. "I'm sorry."

We exchange glances, then we look away from each other.

RJ says, "we should probably get some sleep while we can. Newborns don't exactly let you sleep in, you know."

I nod, rubbing my hands together. He heads over to the couch, getting ready to lay down. Until I stupidly blab out, "The couch is pretty uncomfortable to sleep on. You can stay in my room if you want."

I swear I could hear Codsworth beeping some form of judgment from the bathroom. The house has thin walls. "Not that I—I mean… just if you'd like."

MacCready smirks, "I'd like to," he simply says, following me down the hallway.

Inside of the room, we stop to take off our shoes. Nothing else, just shoes. I crawl into the bed, RJ following. When we're both under the covers, without a word, he lifts his arm so I can tuck myself in the curve of his arm, and I do. His cheek is pressed to my hair.

We drift together, my heart is still racing, but as it slows, it slows in pace with his. I trace the outline of his collarbone, his shoulder with my index finger lazily, my body calming down, settling in. Relaxing.

The house is silent. Only a few sounds disturb it. The wind, cricket chirps. For a while, there's a short patter of rain on the roof.

"I know we don't talk about it," he murmurs after a while when I thought for sure he was asleep. "But what's your plan for all this?"

I tense up, "what do you mean?"

"I mean, at the end of all of it," he says. "With the Institute. What are you going to do?"

A pause. "I don't know," I tell him honestly. "I used to think I did. But I don't know anymore."

His arm tightens around me, I clutch a fistful of his shirt, rubbing at the fabric. "MacCready," I begin. "I think I really messed up yesterday."

"What are you talking about?" he asks, "with the settlers?"

I shake my head. "Not that. I mean—yes, but... something happened at the Institute."

He gives me a look, furrowing his brow. I want to explain it all. Because when something happens, he's the person I want to tell.

I bury my face in his shirt, exhaling. I start by telling him about the synth child, how close I've gotten to him. Then eventually how he called me 'mom' in front of all of the SRB, and more importantly, Shaun.

"I don't even remember _correcting_ him," I groan. "Shaun looked so upset."

MacCready stills. "Wait—lemme get this straight," he says. "Shaun made a ten-year-old version of himself? Why?"

"He said he was testing ' _emotional stimuli_ '."

"What—so he couldn't have just made the kid watch a sad movie?"

I shoot up, "I _know_! I know, it's so _stupid_ … And here I am, getting attached and it's all a mess."

I bury my face in my knees, "Before yesterday… I really thought maybe I'd just cut it out and work with Shaun. I didn't _want_ to care about everything else. I had spent enough time searching for him, _worrying_ about him. I just wanted him back."

MacCready sits up too. I hug my arms around my knees, twisting my wedding ring. "And a part of me still wants that. But after everything with Sunshine Tidings…That wasn't—" I take a moment to think of how I want to phrase it. "That became about so much _more_ than an attack on a settlement. That was about the Institute being this force of evil, of _fear_."

I shake my head and turn to look at MacCready. "Is it wrong to hurt my own son's legacy, the last member of my _family_ , on the slim chance I could figure out how to stop them?"

MacCready says it like it's the easiest thing in the world to understand: "They're frigging crazy, Clarke. What's more, you know it."

I bite the inside of my cheek, rubbing my arms, not saying anything. So MacCready goes on:

"Hell, you're the one who called Shaun 'gone'. You remember that? Right after you came back from the Institute. You said he was ' _so far gone_ '."

I remember. After a few moments, I break the silence; "no part of this will be easy."

MacCready wraps an arm around me, and I fall into him. I press my cheek on his chest, his chin falls on top of my head. "It's gonna be alright," he tells me.

"How do you know?" I mutter defeatedly.

"Because as long as we stick together, I can keep it that way."

I shift my head up to look at him, a tugging feeling in my heart.

MacCready smiles at me and lays back down. I follow, and then we're wrapped up in each other's arm, our legs tangled together under the covers, listening to the wind blowing and the cricket's chirp. Sleep approaches.

"It's not your fault," RJ says after a while. "With that happened with Shaun, how he turned out. I know sometimes you think, maybe if you did something different—maybe if you had fought a little harder… It'd all be different. But in the moment, when the crap hits the fan, there's not a lot you can do. You just get dealt a bad hand."

I want to ask him if that's what happened to him, but when I turn my head to look at him, I already know the answer. I reach up to his cheek, turn his head. I kiss him gently, and he kisses me right back. Minute after minute, we kiss.

I pull away, looking at him, my hand pressed to his cheek. "Sometimes you're dealt a good hand, too," I whisper.

He uses a hand to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, staring at me, he says, "Maybe. Maybe not."

"What are you talking about?"

RJ shakes his head. "Do you ever wonder about if you never had to deal with any of this?" he says, gesturing to the room. "What would have happened if you never stepped into the Vault?"

I must think about that every day since I woke up here. An exhausted griped part of me can't help but think it with every new trial that comes along. But as I look at MacCready right then, I can't feel anything but an unexplainable gratitude.

I shake my head, "and never have met you?" I ask. "Never."


	29. Some Rain Must Fall

" _MacCready… RJ, wake up_."

The moment MacCready opens his eyes, he knows something's wrong. Elenora is sitting on the bed, watching him. She's already dressed, she looks more serious than normal, her voice is soft.

He rubs his eyes, "What time is it?"

"A little after eleven, I let you sleep in."

Propping himself up on his elbows, he feels uneasy at her gaze. "What's wrong?"

She touches his leg lightly, "I got someone to take the baby," she says quietly as if she wants the transition from sleep to waking to be the easiest it can be.

Instinctively, MacCready is worried. He doesn't know why. All he's wanted to do since getting stuck with the thing is to get rid of it. "Who?"

"Her name is Marcy Long," Elenora says. "She's talked it over with her husband."

He nods his head, still groggy from just waking up.

Elle goes on, "Marcy and her husband had a child before. They'll know what to do," she murmurs. Then she looks at him sadly, "Marcy says it could be a second chance for her and Jun."

"But she wants it right?" MacCready pushes. He knows Elenora doesn't want it either, it was thrust on both of them during one of the worst moments of their lives. And if this Marcy is willing to save it from an uncertain future, he should be thankful. But he needs to know she's going to take care of it.

" _Mac_ ," Elle says tiredly. "She's willing to take her. Nobody else will. Believe me, I've… asked around."

"But does she want it?"

"Did _you_ want it?"

Silence enters the room, both of them reaching a stalemate. She rubs her eyes, turning away from him. "I'm going to take her over right now, I just wanted to know if you'd come."

Elenora stands up, dusting off her pants. As she's exiting through the doorway, Mac calls her name. "Wait," he begins. "I'll come over with you. Gimme a second, alright?"

Elenora nods, giving him a weak smile. "Thank you," she murmurs.

MacCready flops back down when she leaves, rubbing his eyes. Rolling out of bed, he shoves his boots on. He tugs his duster on, puts on his hat. By the time he walks over to the nursery, Elenora is already holding the baby, rocking it in her arms.

He can't help but notice how relaxed she looks like this, how much it fits her, holding the baby in her arms like she was a born comforter. He stalls in the doorway, folding his arms, leaning against the doorpost.

Elenora looks up at him, smiling halfheartedly, "it's weird having a baby in this crib again," she says passively.

MacCready walks up to her, continuing letting her talk.

"You know, at Christmas time, I had this thought—One day, this nursery was going to house a child. That was a clear conviction for me," she begins, her voice trailing off.

MacCready's gut clenched. He sure as hell wasn't playing babysitter indefinitely, but he knew he wanted that baby to be okay. A doubt arises in his mind that maybe the Long's couldn't give it that. "Elle, if you're not ready to give it up yet…"

She shakes her head, eyes staring at the baby in her arms. "And when I thought that, I knew I wasn't talking about some vague kid. I meant Shaun," her eyes meet his. "I _still_ mean Shaun."

MacCready frowns, "Shaun… the sixty-year-old?"

She opens her mouth to speak but soon purses her lips, bouncing the baby in her arms. "R.J, you need to promise me something."

His heart beat quickly in his chest. "What?"

"Whatever happens these next few days," she begins. "I need to know we're still going to have each other's backs. Okay?"

 _Weird request._ With her, it never felt like something they had to reaffirm. It was just done. "I plan on walking this earth with you until the day I die, you already know I have your back."

MacCready's face felt hot as the words left his lips. He meant it—of course he _meant_ it—but when he was planning to say it in his head, it felt a lot cooler. And a _hell_ of a lot more romantic. He rubs the back of his neck, "Um. Why—why do you ask?"

Elenora blushes, a smile tugging on her lips. "I'm not sure, I just… Curious, I guess," she murmurs, eyes flicking to his lips.

Before he can do anything else, she walks out of the room, him following cross the street over to the garage where Marcy and Jun are waiting. For the first time since MacCready's known Marcy, she's smiling.

Elenora tugs the baby's blanket up to her chin, then she looks Marcy straight in the eye. "You'll give her a good home?"

Marcy promises. _The best home_ , she tells her. Jun's got an arm wrapped around his wife, his eyes glowing at the sight of the newborn.

MacCready steps between them, "make sure that you do."

"We will," Marcy says defensively, giving him a glare. MacCready glares right back. Stepping between them, Elenora transfers the baby to her.

The moment the baby leaves Elenora arms, it begins to wail. MacCready puts his arm around her, leading her back to her house. Leaving the Long's, Elle keeps her eyes down, not looking back.

When the door is closed, and MacCready is sure Marcy is out of earshot, he asks if she's okay.

"I don't know."

He nods, noticing this. "She's going to get a good home. Better than us, that's for sure." He hesitates for a moment, then says, "I know you liked her. But it ended okay for us, right? And it definitely ended better for the baby."

"I hope so," she looks up at him and smiles sadly. "Thanks, RJ."

Without another word, she plants a kiss on his cheek. Her arms wrap around his torso, and her nose pressed against his neck. Her breath tickles his skin, sending shivers down his back. He hugs her back tightly, and after a moment she pulls away.

"So… what's next?" MacCready asks. He's got fingers crossed for Codsworth making them breakfast—bonus if they can get it in bed.

The answer he gets is far from that. "I think we're going to have to take a quick detour to visit the Railroad."

* * *

"Remind me why we're doing this?" MacCready whines as he holds the door open to the Old North Church. "We coulda had breakfast in bed—I mean, you realize have a robot butler, right? Why don't you ever take advantage of that?"

"The Institute's planning something, RJ," I remind him, passing through the dilapidated church into the backrooms. "The only people fighting back is the Railroad."

MacCready scrunches his nose. "What about the Brotherhood of Steel?"

I stop, staring at him. For a second, he stares right back. Then, after a beat, MacCready bursts into laughter. I laugh right along with him.

"I thought—I thought you were _serious_ for a second!" I snort.

"No, they're the worst. C'mon lets keep going," MacCready chuckles, putting a hand around my waist, walking forward with me as I continue laughing. A couple quips later about the Brotherhood, and we're almost at the doors to HQ.

"—We can't ask the Minutemen to do it alone," I say. "We're bringing it back, but it's not strong enough yet. Getting help from the Railroad is our best bet."

"I hope you're right about them," Mac says, opening the door inside.

Recently, MacCready has kept talking about what I have to do with the Institute. In truth, I know what I have to do; I know that I will take down Shaun's legacy. But it has not sunk in yet, so I find myself going through the motions with it. I have become far too numb to discuss it further.

As soon as we walk in, Desdemona immediately sees me and gestures for us to come over.

"Agent," she smiles, dropping her cigarette on the floor, rubbing her foot against it. "It is good to see you."

"Desdemona," I say, walking over. "I'm here to talk the Institute."

She nods, calling over Deacon. "We were wondering when you'd come back. You have anything new for us?"

Desdemona, Deacon, MacCready and I gather around the war table as I fill in on the meetings Shaun allowed me to sit in on, the attack on Sunshine Tidings, and him mentioning something about a phase three.

"What's Phase Three?" Desdemona asks.

"I don't know much about it," I say. Something about a nuclear reactor, I think?"

Desdemona shares a concerned look with Deacon, then bites her lip.

"What?" I ask.

"Agent, one thing you have to understand about the Institute is how unpredictable they can be. We've been discussing attacks against them for months now, but we always keep coming back to the same plan."

"Which is?"

"Whatever the Institute is planning, whatever Phase Three is," Desdemona pauses for effect, slowing her words like each one is unequivocally important. "We have to prepare for the worst. Destroying them completely is the only way to stop this before it gets worse."

"Destroying them…" I trail off.

"Blowing them up," Dez confirms.

"Blowing up the goddamn place from here to Timbuktu," Deacon smiles.

I frown, turning to him. "That's…not how that saying is used."

"The frick is Timbuktu?" MacCready asks. _What's wrong in Timbuktu?_

"It's just some random place, RJ," I say.

"It's _pre-war_ lingo," Deacon explains, lifting his sunglasses down, winking. Mac makes a face.

"That's… No—Okay. Dez," I say, turning my attention. "How are you planning to destroy the Institute?"

"If we can rig bombs to explode inside the main infrastructures we can detonate from a safe distance," she explains.

"And _that's_ when we'll blow their asses back to Timbuktu," Deacon says, slamming a hand on the war table.

"Timbuktu," MacCready echoes, mystified.

"Here's the tricky part though," Dez says. "We aren't just destroying the Institute. We're liberating the synths inside. Helping the synths escape, that's where our job gets sticky—" she moves swiftly and puts her hands on my shoulders, looking me dead in the eyes. "That's why we need you for this."

"Dez is right," Deacon tells me. "You're the one with the golden-ticket here."

I pause, "I can see if I can get them all in a safe location to teleport them out."

"Now you're thinking like a tourist," Dez smiles. "Okay. As you're working on getting us intel, we'll be working on getting our agents ready leading up to the attack."

"I've got some Minutemen soldiers we can recruit," I tell her.

"Oh, the history reenactors?" Deacon asks. "I thought they were all gone."

"We're bringing it back," MacCready says matter-of-factly.

* * *

My days at the Institute are now numbered. It's all I can think as I transport back inside with the click of a button.

First, I go to my room, taking all the personal items I've left behind on visits here. When you believe you have a future somewhere, you leave things. The moment you don't, you clean.

I begin packing up. There are a few books by the bedside table, things I've picked up I thought maybe Shaun would like. I found a battered old copy of _Brave New World_ in an old bookstore once, but I never gave it to him. I didn't think he would get the point of it. Or if he did, it would hit too close to home.

There's a book of fairy-tales on the table too. Stuff I keep here if the synth child needs to stay the night again. There's a lot of good ones in there—he loved _Hansel and Gretel._ For his own sake, I skipped _Pinocchio._

A few more miscellaneous items. Toothbrush and toothpaste, an extra pair of shoes, a jacket. I stuff it all in my backpack and slip out at night when everyone has turned in and the main floor will be empty.

Next on the to-do list is to head to Advanced Systems. For now, so late in the night, nobody is working shifts here. I tread quietly over to the synth child's room, finding him lying on his bed, still awake.

He pushes himself up, "Elenora?"

I smile, waving at him slightly. "I'm here."

The synth child hops off the side of the bed and wraps his arms around my waist, nose burrowed into my stomach. I rub his hair, smiling, despite myself. "How're you doing kiddo?" I say happily, running a hand through his hair, enjoying his smile, how his brown eyes—the eyes inherited from Nate—crinkle when he's happy.

Synth Shaun looks around for a moment and then seeing we're alone, gestures for me to come closer. As I lean down, Shaun whispers in my ear, "I have to show you something."

I frown, "what's wrong?"

From out of his pocket, he pulls a recorder. I look at his face, reading his emotions. "We can go to my room."

He nods, and I grab his hand, leading him out of A.S and with me to my apartment. Once we're safely alone, I take him to my couch and have us sit so he can show me.

He plays with the recorder in his hands for a moment, then says, "I was recording a song I liked… I heard," he purses his lips. "Maybe we should just listen to it first."

He turns on the recorder, then, a familiar voice—the tape plays one of Travis Miles's shaky broadcasts:

"— _So, the, uh... The Minutemen are out there... doing things... in the Commonwealth. What kind of things, you ask? Well... I will tell you. They officially have a General_."

I stare at the synth, looking for a reaction out of him. He just keeps his eyes on the radio.

" _That's… Well, if you ask me that's a sign that they're coming back, right? ...Wow! Exciting… stuff. Her name is Elenora Clarke. So… If you are looking to join, you should probably say that name. Tell them Travis sent you! They'll… Well, I don't know if they'll do anything. Not many people…. Know me. Heh. Anyways, um. Now here's Connie Allen_ '—"

Shaun turns off his recorder, looking at me. "Are you really a general?" He asks, but not with an inch of anger in his voice; only curiosity.

I wait a moment, looking at him. "Yes. It's true, I am."

His jaw drops, "That's so _cool_!" he exclaims. "Do you have a whole army? Do you get to fight the bad guys?"

I stare at him, deciding how to answer. "Yes, Shaun. I fight the bad guys," I answer soberly. And before I can let him say another word, I take him by the shoulders. "You can't say a word of this to anyone, do you understand?"

He nods excitedly, "Cross my heart. I'm really good at keeping secrets."

I keep my eyes on him. He looked so bright, so happy. I take a deep breath, preparing myself to say what I've been planning to say for a while. I looked him sternly in the eyes. "Shaun, I have to tell you something too."

"What?"

I hesitate—how could I lay the truth on the shoulders of someone so young? "Something is coming, Shaun. Something big. And when it happens, I don't want you to be here."

He searches my eyes for answers, tilting his head.

I take his hands in mine. "There's a place I can take you. Somewhere you can be safe. Sanctuary."

"Sanctuary….?"

"It's a settlement," I explain. "And it's not just any settlement. It's the best, safest settlement in the whole world," I pause, looking at him, trying to get a feel of what he's thinking. "Would you like that? To come live with me?"

Synth Shaun stares off to a corner of the room, more stoic than I've ever seen someone so young. "I wouldn't have to live in the lab anymore?"

I shake my head, "No."

"And… And I get to stay with you?"

I nod, smiling gently. "Yes, Shaun."

When I think about it, in a genetic way the synth is related to me. Through Shaun's DNA, he's technically my grandson. But if I'm honest with myself, it doesn't matter if he's related or not. Maybe that's not even what being a mom to someone is. Instead of taking care of a child you made, it's taking care of a child period. No birthing required. Just love.

With everything the railroad is planning, I want him with me—safely—before any of the fighting happens. I want him in a warm home, knowing he'll be loved, instead of what he has here.

Shaun looks at me for a moment, and then all at once crushes his head against my chest, wrapping his arms tightly around me, and in a soft murmur, says, "yes, please."

A breath of relief rolls out of me, and I hug him back. A new sort of joy flows through me once again. One that stirs my heart and makes my soul lighter. A feeling I have not felt since my earliest days as a mother; the hope that the life you are living will become significantly better from then on. When you are happy simply because you know the actions you've done will give another happiness—the ultimate state of bliss.

"You can stay in my room for tonight," I tell him. "I can only transport one person at a time with the Courser transporter in my chip, but I bet I can grab another from Synth Retention. Then we'll go. Okay?"

The boy nods happily and allows me to tuck him in one final time in this room. The next time I'll do be doing it, we'll be in Sanctuary.

I pull the covers up to his chin, "stay here until I get back, okay?" I say. Then, with a smile. "I think you'll really like it above ground."

"I think I will too," he smiles.

I kiss his forehead, "Get some rest. I'll be back soon."

I stand up and leave quickly, already wishing we were leaving. For one of the first times since I left the vault, I finally felt like I was _living_ and not just _surviving_. I had found a meaning bigger than base needs; I had MacCready, and now I was going to have Shaun too.

I rush down the stairwell, jogging to SRB. In front of the doors, there are two Coursers guarding the entrance. I don't pay attention to them, they've let me pass before. With Father's golden stamp-of-approval to every division in the Institute, we'll be out of here in less than an hour.

I try to move past them but one blocks my way.

Perplexed, I ask, "is there a problem?"

No answer. I frown, trying to get past them again but the Courser raises his gun. I take a step back, "What the hell?"

Taking another step back, I bump into someone. Turning my head, I see yet another Courser blocking my way.

"Father requests your presence in his office," the Courser says.

"Father can wait until morning," I tell them, taking a step forward, but again, they block me.

"He said 'at once'," the Courser pushes.

I purse my lips, "Okay. I'll go over there now," I tell them. But that's not good enough. In one swift motion, they grab me by the arms, hard, taking me to Shaun's office, despite my struggling. They half pull, half drag me up the stairwell, pushing me into his office.

When we get there, Shaun's back is turned. A Courser stands near him, his gun in his hands. And on the ground behind him, Mr. Bear tossed dejectedly on the ground.

"We retrieved your mother, sir," the Courser says.

I break free out of the Courser's grip, surprised how easily they let me go. "Shaun, what's going on?"

Shaun turns, and his eyes meet mine. He glares at me as though he were seeing me truly for the first time. His eyes of hate met mine full of confused terror. My stomach twists, my hands clammy.

"Did you think we would not see what you have done?" Shaun takes a step towards me, stepping on the teddy bear's head. Mr. Bear hisses out a small squeak. He stands in front of me, towering over me.

"Did you think I wouldn't know you've betrayed me?"


	30. What Humanity is Capable Of

"Did you think I wouldn't know you've betrayed me?"

There's a charge in the air, my stomach twists. In a meek voice, I murmur, "I don't know what you're talking about—"

Shaun is quick to interrupt me, his voice starting off low, coldly. "I let you into my home. I let you into meetings that some of my highest ranked scientists aren't allowed to attend. I give you access to the divisions. You wear our clothes, you eat our food. And this is how you repay me?"

As if our roles are reversed, I duck my head like a punished child. "Shaun—"

"—After all I've done…. The lengths to which I've gone to give you a new home, a new life… For us to be a family." Shaun walks in a circle around me, looking me up and down. I stand there and take it. "And all that talk about my father. How I gave him _hope_ , how _happy_ we were. All along, you were just planning to hurt us. _All lies_."

"That wasn't a lie, sweetheart," I begin to say, trying to get him to calm down. I reach a hand out to touch his arm, but he swats it away, and simultaneously the Courser's from behind come up and grab my arms, holding me still.

Now my heart beats uncontrollably. The more assured part of my mind screams for me to say something rebellious, to remind Shaun I was his mother at the end of the day. But to my shame, I just stood there in shock.

"I heard the reports," he counters, his voice rising. "Two adults, a man and a woman killing a team of Courser's at a settlement I had only sent orders out for yesterday. At first, I think, _maybe a group of lucky settlers_. Then I find out the settlement was empty. Like it had been evacuated. And the woman fits a profile. And I have the testimony of a Courser telling me he could've sworn he saw my mother—my _mother_ —killing Coursers."

He shakes his head, putting his hands on his hips, turning away from me. "The only question is _why_ ," he whispers. "Why would you do something so… so stupid?"

I stare at him, trying to figure out how to say it. In a hushed voice, I say, "I had a duty to the people of that settlement. Much in the same way you have a duty to the people of the Institute."

"You think there's room for sentimentality? You killed my soldiers. Which, by any other meaning of the action, is treason," Shaun scoffs. "I just don't understand. You always have told me the importance you place on family, and you'd risk it for, what? The lives of a few settlers? An escaped synth?"

Fear warred in me, and I shout it down. "An _escaped_ synth, Shaun. You ever think why'd they want to do that?"

"Oh, _please_ ," Shaun says, waving a hand dismissively, walking away. "You act like it's free-thinking."

"Why don't you?"

"I see them— _all_ of them—from the time they're made," Shaun says. "I can assure you there's nothing there. People… they only see what they want to. They see their own emotions reflected back at them."

I shake my head, "Shaun… Can't you see how I don't approve of this? How disappointed it makes me?"

The moment the word 'disappointed' leave my lips, it _affects_ Shaun. He stares at me with a martyred look in his eyes, a true bewilderment. Shaun looks at the Courser's holding me down and nods his head. "Take her to the teleportation room," he instructs.

The Courser's march me into the elevator, Father following. He doesn't speak a word to me. We ascend up the glass cylinder, at the eagle-eye view of the whole Institute. At that moment, I can see my apartment. And from the balcony, the little synth child wrapped up in a blanket, staring over the railing, probably wondering where I am.

My heart felt heavy, a lump in my throat forms. I want to cry out. Bang my hands on the glass, try to get his attention. _I'm here! I'm right here, look up!_ But I already know it's pointless. My arms are held down by the Coursers, and even if I could break free, I wouldn't _stay_ free. The elevator continues to slide up, taking me away from him.

When the elevator slides open, the Courser's push me out, forcing me into the teleportation pod. With the command of their guns, I step into the back of the room.

I rack my mind, thinking I'll say something good. If not for me, for the Railroad's sake. But all I come up with is, "Shaun—don't. I'll never be able to see you again."

"That's why I'm doing this," he says, the tone of his voice completely passive.

I open my mouth to speak but clamp it shut. Father turns to his Coursers. "You'll have to take away her Pip-boy too, the Courser tech allows her to come back."

"What?" I ask, my hand instinctively covering it.

One Courser steps forward and forcibly takes it off my wrist, I try to wriggle away from him, but it's no use, in a moment, it's taken off me and tossed to Father.

My eyes widen, realizing I couldn't just _lose_ that. Nate's holotape was still in there, only played a few days ago out of boredom and grief.

"Wait! I need the tape inside, it's important."

Father frowns, "Do you realize what's happening? The full consequence of your actions and you want a tape?"

Maybe Nate's words could convince Shaun, maybe if he heard it, he'd realize how important family was too, and allow me to stay. "Shaun, honey, listen to me carefully; I need you to play the tape on there. It's important—your dad—"

" _Enough_."

Shaun walks up to the teleportation doorway.

"Unless you haven't understood yet, you are an enemy of the Institute," he writhes. He glared at me then and I felt a corrosive hate between the two of us. It was a terrible spectacle to witness, I'm sure. To say, 'it upset me' does not do justice to convey the depth of how I felt. I felt my very being shatter.

As the teleportation pod begins to light up, flashing the lights that will take me away from him for the last time, I hear his final utterance. Low and deep, but I can hear it:

"And should you cross us again, I will kill you."

* * *

When I come back out again on the surface, I collapse in front of the CIT ruins. On my knees, I stare at the ground, my fingernails digging into the dead earth.

Tears blur my vision, my throat all choked up. I look up, my whole body shaking. Shakily, I call out, "MacCready? Are you here?"

Although it's hard to see in the middle of the night, I see his head a few feet away pop up from his campsite he'd made a few hours ago. Waiting patiently for me to come back up, he takes a moment to wake up, then stands. "Elle?"

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, standing up, my legs quivering. "I'm here, RJ," I call.

He breaks into a run, "What's—where's the kid? I thought..."

I shake my head, looking at the ground. "I don't—Shaun, he…"

He takes me by the shoulders, "What happened? What's wrong? Clarke, you're shaking."

I meet his eyes, opening my mouth to speak, but all that falls out is, "He wants to kill me. He wants to kill me," my voice breaks, the tears come without warning. "He wanted to…"

RJ doesn't say anything, just wraps his arms around me, his hand pressed against the back of my head, holding me while I shake. I don't make a sound, and my throat burns from it. Tears pour, my body quivers, I still couldn't process what had happened.

"Shaun knows," I manage to finally get out. "I can't get back in—it's all been for nothing."

MacCready—maybe from a lack of knowing what to say—says, "C'mon. Let's get out of the open, Bunker Hill is nearby."

Taking a moment to compose myself, I follow as he grabs his backpack and leads me towards the settlement.

He leads me through the gates, tells me to wait at the monument while he buys a room. A few minutes later when he comes back, he's holding two bottles of beer.

"What's this?"

He shrugs and gestures to the top of the Bunker Hill monument. "Figured you needed a break."

I stare at him, and then at the bottles. He nods his head, "C'mon."

Together, he takes the lead into the monument, leading me up the stairwell. When we get to the top, half of the wall is gone. There was no light at the top of the monument save the stars. MacCready takes a seat, his feet dangling off the side. He pats the spot next to him. Popping open the lid, he holds out the beer.

"Helluva view," I murmur, sitting down and taking the bottle.

"Company's good too," MacCready says, holding out his drink, our glasses clink.

I tell MacCready everything that happened, what Shaun said, that he took my Pip-boy.

"What am I gonna do?" I murmur defeatedly. "Even if I wanted to help the Railroad, I can't. Shaun's dead to me now..." I could feel the tears forming, quickly I blink them away. "Everything I thought I should've been fighting for in the beginning… It doesn't matter anymore."

MacCready purses his lips, "Yeah, but wasn't this long coming? I mean, did you really think you were actually gonna help those eggheads?"

"No," I say defensively. Then I pause. "Yes. Maybe. It's been a weird couple months."

MacCready scoffs, "that's the understatement of the year," he says, taking a swig of beer.

I pause, staring out the city. "I think I assumed love was the same as enabling," I whisper. "But it's not. Love isn't that at all."

MacCready shrugs, "Maybe not. Who can say?"

I look at him for a moment, trying to gather the courage to tell him something that I can't put it into words yet.

Of course, there's more than one kind of love. My love for Shaun is different than my love for the people in Sanctuary. My love for them is different than my love for MacCready.

With MacCready, it's different because he gives me a new sense of purpose. Because I experienced the loss of Nate, I cannot in good conscience put someone through what I went through. MacCready has experienced the death of a spouse as well, this is something I can never forget about him. We have both experienced that terrible tragedy, what it means to lose someone you love, and we know the value we place on each other; he is worth living for.

Shaun is a different story. I love him, but I don't condone his actions. I love him, but not what he does. I can do both. There's no part of me that thinks that you can only do one or the other.

"I think it's something like this," I finally say, squeezing his hand. "It's has something to do with sacrifice. And service. Wanting something with nothing in return."

When you come to an end of something in life, it is natural to think back to the beginning. When I first came out of the Vault, my mission in life was to find Shaun. It was how I survived those first few weeks in the Wasteland without much knowledge of survival or weaponry; It all had to do with love. My love for Nate who forced me to keep moving, my devotion to Shaun who urged me to find him.

And with the ends of things in life, life presents beginnings, too. It gave me one in RJ.

MacCready's eyes soften. Then he suddenly says, "I want to give you something."

I tilt my head. He turns to his backpack, rummaging through for a moment, then—he pulls out a small, wooden toy soldier. He hands it to me.

"The soldier Lucy gave you," I say in awe, running a finger down the carvings. "You're giving it to me?"

"I know it looks like a pretty dumb gift," MacCready says ashamedly. " I've been trying to find the right time to give it to you. I know you don't care for me paying back my debts, but...I thought you'd like it," he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "When she died, this gave me the courage to press ahead, you know? To never give up. With everything happening lately, I just thought… Maybe you'd need it more than I did."

I smile, and I find myself tearing up a bit. "It's wonderful," I say, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. "I love it… Thank you for taking me up here."

I move to lay my head on his shoulder, and he responds by wrapping an arm around me. "It's nice, but you should see the one in downtown D.C.," MacCready says. "I bet you'd like it."

"I've never been to Washington, I've only seen pictures," I tell him. "Maybe one day I could. When this is all over."

He looks at me, "yeah?"

"Yeah," I say, nuzzling his shoulder with my cheek. "I could meet Duncan," I offer.

MacCready brightens, "Really? You'd want to? I mean—I know he wants to meet you. ' _The woman who saved his life'_. Man, he'd be buzzed about that."

My lips curl up, "you told him about me?"

"'Course I did, you're important to us," he grins. Despite the grimness of the night, this makes me smile. I place a hand on his cheek, pulling him into a deep, long kiss.

I pull away, placing his head under his jaw. After a few minutes pass, I say, "This fight isn't going to last forever. When it ends, I don't want to let you go." Then adding somberly, "Looking back on all this, I can't imagine where I'd be if you weren't there."

MacCready snorts, pressing his lips on my forehead. "You kidding? You woulda died months ago without me," he teases.

I chuckle, curling into him. "I know, I know…"

A beat passes. MacCready looks down at me, smiling gently. "Don't worry, I want that too."

I smile gratefully, grabbing his free hand, squeezing it. "Stick together?"

He promises.

* * *

After staying the night in Bunker Hill, the next day we set out to Railroad's HQ. As we cross the trash infested wasteland, MacCready and I plan the steps against Father's plans. We couldn't help the Railroad any longer, that was true. But maybe they'd lend a few agents to the cause.

"It's gotta be little weird," MacCready says, as we're mere feet away from the Old North Church. We walk in the building together, down the steps to HQ. "I mean, you changed his diapers, and now you're planning to blow up his whole operation."

I huff, "I may have changed his diapers, but I'm not taking his shit."

MacCready snorts, " _Damn_. You ever see him again, you gotta remember to say that."

I open the door down to HQ, and by the time we get down the stairs, we see the chaos of the catacombs. People are rushing in and out, Doctor Carrington has a few agents on the medical beds. Desdemona is at the war table whispering fiercely to Deacon.

I push through the clamor of Agents, finding Dez. "What's happened?"

"Agent," Desdemona says, a bit startled. Her face is red, her brow furrowed. "Where have you been?"

"What happened here?" An unthinkable thought crosses my mind, "did the Institute find—?"

Deacon nearby chuckles mirthlessly. "Believe me, if they found HQ this place woulda been royalty fu—"

"Deacon, please," Desdemona says, rubbing her eyes. Dark, tired, slightly puffy. "It's Ticonderoga. One of our biggest safehouses. Somehow… they found it. A team of Coursers. They left no survivors."

It takes a moment to sink in. "When?"

"Last night," Desdemona answers. She pulls up a chair, taking a seat. Elbows on her knees, hands in her face. Deacon pats her back. "All the synth refugees, the agents...The Coursers vanished before we even found out."

I lock eyes with MacCready, then back to Dez. "They've taken too much?"

Desdemona looks up, staring at me. The very thought made her look physically sick. "No. We—we still have _you_ , an inside man. We need to launch a counter-attack now while it's still—" She spoke very quickly, tripping on the words.

"I can't," I interrupt, almost wishing I hadn't said it the moment her face changes. "They found out, they won't let me back in the Institute."

Desdemona, a woman so sure of her organization only twenty-four hours ago, was losing her most important assets. "You've got to be joking me."

I shake my head. A moment of silence passes between us, among the chaos of HQ.

She fumbles to place a cigarette between her lips, flicking the match. Taking a long drag, she says, "I fear the fate of the Commonwealth doesn't lie with the Railroad after all."

"It can't belong in the hands of the Institute either," I remind her. "If they knew the Railroad was in Ticonderoga, what's to stop them from finding here and _still_ send us packing?"

"What do you propose?" Dez says.

"I have loyal Minutemen soldiers," I tell her. "We could use help from people like you."

Dez shakes her head, "I can't sacrifice my agents like that," she says tiredly. "Not so many, not after what we've lost."

I look at her, hoping she'll give me something—anything.

"I'm sorry," she tells me finally.

There was nothing left for us there. MacCready and I left the HQ then, just as quickly as we came.

"What now?" RJ asks, on the trip back to Sanctuary.

I shrug, staring ahead at the horizon. "We'll see if Preston can help."

We take the shortcuts back to Sanctuary, trying to get back as fast as possible. We had to—Shaun hated me, and I feared retaliation in any form. Now was the time to act, but also the time to be more alert than ever before: Since the bombs fell, we know what humanity is capable of doing, what anyone could do given they felt justified enough.

And since the Institute's attack on Sunshine Tidings Co-op and Ticonderoga, we know what is at risk.


	31. End Game

When I tell Preston that I want to take the fight to the Institute, he surprises me with how much he wants it too. And for the next few days, my kitchen table is our war table. My walls pin up battle strategies. The living room stores our weapons, combat armor.

"We'll need soldiers," I tell Preston one day while circling around the table. "The best people we know to go in. No half measures, when we take them out, we finish the job."

"Some of the settlers from Sunshine Tidings are pretty good with guns," Preston tells me. "And with the vendetta they've got against the Institute, they'd want to fight."

Sunshine Tidings settlers answer the call, more than raring to go. Equipped, cocked, locked and ready to rock.

While I'm preparing troops for what the Institute looks like, Sturges takes the network scanner holotape I made my first day there and works on figuring out a way in.

While he works, MacCready and I take a day trip up to Diamond City to get gear. We stop by Commonwealth Weaponry to grab anything else we'll need before the battle.

"What're you going to do with all this?" Arturo asks as he slides over the last box of .308 bullets over the counter.

I exchange a glance with MacCready. "We're going to destroy the Institute," I say.

The gun merchant scoffs. "Hah, good one!"

By the time we get back to Sanctuary, Sturges is ready.

There's a whole layout of the Institute complex inside the holotape. including an old pipe system that runs all the way out of it into the bay area, used as a coolant for their reactor. I.E, our way in.

"There's a code to open the grate," Sturges mentions, placing a piece of paper in my palm. "So all you have to do is survive the trip. As soon as you get in there, you'll have to access the main relay control to transport everyone into the Institute. From there, we'll be set to attack."

We alert the settlers. Preston and I go over the plan with everyone from inside my kitchen. There are few enough soldiers they can all fit in the living room.

Then—It's all ready. MacCready and I grab our packs, our guns (fully stocked) and we're the first to go. A half a day's trip down to CIT. We leave at midday.

* * *

There are stars, pinpricks of light stabbing down. There is the empty road and two figures marching along the side of the bay. The flashlight on MacCready's sniper rifle lights the streets.

I stop for a moment, "RJ, wait."

He turns, frowning. "You okay, partner?"

I sigh, nodding slowly. "Before we left," I say. "I was checking the Institute layout Sturges gave us. And… ever since I left for the last time, I can't help but think of Synth Shaun."

MacCready turns completely facing me, lowering his gun. "Okay..."

I clamp my hands together, biting my lip. "If everything gets too crazy during the fight, I'm afraid I'm going to forget about him. Or if he's not going to get out, or he'll be stuck somewhere and I can't…" I rub my eyes together. "I know it's stupid. But I need to make sure he gets out okay."

However I imagined him taking it, MacCready understands. "What's your plan?"

I lick my lips and take out a copy of the Institute layout Sturges gave us. I open the folds. MacCready comes over, shining his flashlight on the paper. "There's air ventilation shafts all throughout the Institute. And I've been going over the plans, and there's one that leads inside Advanced Systems. That's where he is," I say, closing the plans. "I think I can get to him before the fighting happens and pull him out before things get too crazy… But I'd need someone to be in the relay room to get the Minutemen there."

I look at him hopefully, and MacCready agrees to it. "Okay. I'll man the relay, but you need to promise you'll haul butt and get back to the relay in time," he says hesitantly.

I let out a sigh of relief, "MacCready, you're a saint," I smile. "Thank you. I promise."

We continue down the street until we get to the spot Sturges told us about.

MacCready and I lean over the railing, staring at the murky water. "Entrance is through there," I murmur. I squeeze my nose shut, shaking my head. "There's not a chance in hell…"

MacCready gestures to the water, "ladies first?"

I frown at him, shaking my head. He sighs, and swings his leg over the railing, "fine."

He goes in first. I drop into the water following and kick my feet until my head is above the surface.

Step one: Infiltrate. We head into the tunnel, the water around us filled with trash, and decay and old clothes. In a few moments, we're above water again in a brick room with pipes leading all ways out. Ahead, in the front of the sewer, there's a keypad.

I kick water until I get to the top, shivering from the sewer water. I help MacCready up and go up to the keypad. I roll down my wet sleeve, read the numbers I've written on my wrist and go to punch in the numbers.

There's a hiss, then a little _pop_! To our left, a security door has opened. MacCready flashes me a look. "Sturges said it's a straight shot in from here."

I brush strands of wet hair away from my face and pull out my gun. "Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of."

MacCready apprehensively steps back into the sewer water. Turning on the flashlight on his rifle, he heads in first through the tunnel.

The tunnel is cramped. We have to bend down just to walk in it. We slosh through water choked in wet garbage, leaves, and—rotting body parts. At first glance of what I think is a foot, I instinctively grab onto MacCready's arm.

The flashlight strapped on MacCready's sniper is the only light source in the tunnel. It's absolute silence, broken only by the clanging of metal, and our feet moving through the water.

I pull my shirt collar up to my nose to help with the smell, but it's not doing much. _It'll all be over within hours_ , I have to tell myself.

The sewer tunnels lead out into another room. Already better because of the smell. There's a set of stairs leading up to more rooms. There are some voices coming out from there. MacCready heads up the stairs first and peers into an old workroom through a window. Inside, there are two people. A gen. 2 synth, and a scientist. With two shots, MacCready takes them out before they even know what's happening.

Finally, the last leg of the trip down is finished. We head down into the workroom, and I pull out the map of inside the Institute and lay it on the table. "If this map reads right, there's a ventilation system right here that will lead into Advanced Systems," I say, pointing to the map. "You still good on our plan?"

MacCready nods, "Where are you going to go once you get the kid?"

"The teleportation room. Sturges can get him back to Sanctuary," I say, folding the map up and stuffing it in my pocket. "Will you give me a boost?"

"What are you going to do if someone asks you what you're doing there?" MacCready asks.

"I don't know," I answer honestly. "I'll make something up." I walk over the ventilation shaft, but before I climb in, MacCready grabs my arm.

"Elle, wait," he says, his voice serious. "Don't half-ass… _Erg_ , don't go into this not thinking, alright? I couldn't handle it if…"

I slow down, turning to face him. "Hey…" I begin, reaching up to touch his cheek. "Just think of it as another job. We'll both be done soon, and then it's all over."

He doesn't meet my eyes, he only nods on the ground. "Even if it is another job—" His grip on my arm tightens.

I wait, not rushing him.

He shakes his head, bridging the small distance between us and kisses me. I kiss him back. It's unexpected—my mind has been focused on this attack since we've left the Railroad, but it's so sweet I have to smile. It's amazing how something as simple as a kiss can calm me down.

After he breaks away, I speak first. "I'll be careful," I promise. "Just—take care of the relay. And I'll see you in a few minutes."

He scoffs, "Look at you, giving me advice. Heck, I should be the one…"

"I'll see you soon," I assure him. "I promise."

He kisses me again. We wrap each other in our arms again for ten seconds, twenty, thirty seconds. Then we break away and go to do our different jobs.

I climb into the air vent. Scuttling forward on my stomach, I scoot along the shaft, pausing at each juncture to listen. The shaft is pricklingly cold. My wet hair begins to freeze together. Every few feet, a new choice. _Left, right, straight?_ I begin to panic. I should've memorized the map before I got in here. Hell, I should've stayed with Mac, I should be there when the Minutemen get here. I take a deep breath, and try to calm myself down. No going back now. Only moving forward.

I keep moving, there's a white-ish light up ahead. _Maybe A.S?_ I inch towards the grate from where the glow emanates. I peek through the slats to find rows of lockers. I stare longer until I'm sure it's not Advanced Systems. Rows and rows of guns line the walls. I frown, _what is it?_ Then it clicks for me.

 _Elenora, that's an armory._

New plan.

I take the butt of my 10mm and slam it into the grate, it pops open with one hit. I drop into the room. A small warehouse, with shelves full of their sleek, ready-to-go guns. On one wall, rows of rifles and pistols. The other, grenades and mines all sorts of explosives. There's a wardrobe section, too, full of white jumpsuits and synth armor and all the gear to go with it.

I'll have to go fast.

First, I grab a synth uniform, zipping up the white suit. I strap on pieces of the synth armor, finishing with a helmet that'll cover my head in case anyone recognizes me.

Time to gear up. There's an Institute assault rifle with a full clip. _Don't might if I do_. A couple of grenades? I hope nobody misses these grenades! There's even an institute version of a fanny pack, and I strap that on too, filling it with ammo. The synth belt even has a holster for a combat knife.

There's no mirror in the armory, but the glint off of one of the plates of armor gives me an idea of what I look like. I'm hoping to pass as a security guard synth. One that patrols around the Divisions, looking scary but not _I'll-kill-you-dead-Courser_ scary.

I'm debating whether to get back in the air ducts, but weighed down by ten or so extra pounds of gear, I'm not sure that'll work anymore. Well, what good is a disguise if you're not going to use it? I stuff my old wet clothes into an empty locker and seal it with a combination lock.

I push through the doors, looking around before making sure the coast is clear.

Step two: Shaun.

MacCready's voice, like the voice of reason, echoes in my mind. _Isn't it going to look suspicious if you just take the kid?_

 _If anyone comes between him and me, I'll kill them._

I head towards Advanced Systems, making a silent promise to Shaun that I'll save him. The promise I didn't make to Nate, whose dog tags he still wears around his neck.

 _Is this selfish?_ The Minutemen are depending on me to get them here, and I left it to MacCready to solve it while I pick up the kid.

Maybe it _is_ selfish. But I didn't emerge out of the Vault with the sole purpose to save the world; It began with the simple resolve to save someone I loved. And that's how it'll end.

I walk into A.S, feeling a few eyes on me but trying to keep my cool. Most of them are distracted by the day's work. To them, I'm just a synth. I flick my eyes to the section where synth Shaun's room is, but he's not there.

 _Don't panic, don't panic. Keep looking around_. I turn my head the other way, looking around the room like I'm just guarding things. I circle around the division, but he's not anywhere. _Shit. Shit. Where is he?_

I walk back to the entrance, turning a corner to get there.

"Synth!"

Shouted from behind me. I stop, square my shoulders, turn around.

It's a scientist. Dr. Madison Li, the head of A.S. "What's your operating number?"

I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "R2-D2. Ma'am," I say lowering my voice an octave. _R2-D2? Oh God. I'm gonna die here!_

She gives me a puzzled look. "R2-D2? Are you sure?"

 _Hell no! Get me out of here!_ "Yes, ma'am," I blurt out.

She looks me up and down, and I've got a feeling I'm not in regulation. My heart is pounding out of my chest so fast I wonder if she can hear it. If she gets suspicious enough to pull up my helmet, I'm gonna have to kill her.

"What are you doing with a grenade on your belt? And… is that a combat knife?"

"Extra caution, ma'am," I answer. "Father's requested it. he's asked for extra patrol just in case…. Because of the last few days."

I said it quick enough, but she has got to buy it. She frowns, "next time, let the Director know it's not _appreciated_ when he does things without letting the staff know. Lord knows how it ended up last time," she sighs, turning around heading back to her desk.

I swivel around, my legs shaking. _Oh my gosh, I'm alive? I'm alive. I lived._

I'm back into the main hall, but what now? Shaun wasn't in A.S, what was I supposed to _do_? I continue walking like nothing was wrong, circling around the divisions.

I march along, deciding I had to pick a place to start looking. I see the sign for the Robotics division next and decide to check it out.

I pass into the division. There's a huge display of synths being created (which I stare at longer than needed). But finally, after pulling myself away from the spectacle, I go to check out the back rooms.

It's not until I get to the end of the hall, after peeking in through all of the doors, I see him. Synth Shaun. But he's lying on his back on operating table, and wires going into his head. The wires are connected to a big machine in the room, and there's a single scientist inside with a checklist.

I enter, shutting the door behind me quickly. I lock the door. The scientist, a middle-aged man raises an eyebrow. "Who authorized-?"

I raise my gun, pointing it at his chest. "If you want to live, stay quiet. _Hands up_." I'm surprisedly how lethal I sound. His hands go up.

I nod to synth Shaun on the operating table, "what are you doing to him?"

He's too shocked to answer, he's just shaking his head, paralyzed. I poke him with the barrel of the gun. " _Answer_ me."

"Father said to," he answers. "He wanted him to be reprogrammed to believe he's someone's son."

My stomach twists, I press the rifle harder. " _Who_?"

"The director's mother, I think," he babbles. "But that's all he told me, I swear!"

I lower my gun, taking a step back. "What…? Why'd he do that?"

"I swear I don't know," he blurts out. "I was only supposed to get him ready."

I shake my head. "Ready? Ready for what?"

In a split second, the scientist goes to grab the barrel of the gun. His hands push the muzzle up, but instinctively I pull the trigger. In just a second, his face is a bloody pulp. I squeeze my eyes shut at the mess, turning my head away. The sound from the gun bounces off the walls in one satisfying _pop!_

I take a second to compose myself, taking in the sight and sling the rifle over my shoulder. I approach the synth child. First, I take off the wires on his forehead. Held there by little strips of silicon, they rip off easily. I shake him, try to get him to wake up.

"Shaun?" I say softly. "Shaun? Honey, you have to wake up. Shaun." I pat his cheek a few times but he won't wake. I take off my helmet to check if his heartbeat. Must be knocked out from some anesthetic. _Okay. Okay, okay. We'll just have work around it._.. I search for other exits, but it's just the one door.

And that door begins to be banged on fiercely. A muffled voice on the other side shouts: " _Doctor? What's happened_?"

I stand in front of the bed, raising the muzzle. _If they want you, they go through me. I'm getting you out of here, Shaun. I promise._

And the moment I make that promise, it's like something in the universe decides to answer because I can hear screaming from outside the door. There's a couple of gunshots. Chaos in the division. The chaos means one thing:

MacCready got the Minutemen here.

The banging on the door immediately stops, and after a few moments, it's silent. Approaching the door and unlocking it, I poke the gun out to swing the door open. I pop my head out, and the hallway is clear.

I murmur a silent thank you. I can nab Shaun in the organized chaos, ride the elevator up to the teleportation room, and get him back to safety while I help Preston secure the place.

Just have to get past the Coursers. And the synths. And Father.

Simple.

Putting my helmet back on, I hoist him up, his arm is hooked around my neck, and I'm putting my hand under his legs. My legs teeter under the weight of all the armor, combined with the kid. I take a breath and open the door out.

Time to go.

* * *

MacCready is on point; he has the best eyes. Preston and the rest of the soldiers follow him into the Institute's main room.

Room wasn't the right word for it. It was an underground resort. MacCready's never been to a resort, but if he had, he thinks it would look as bright and clean as the Institute does. There's the sounds of waterfalls, there are trees with bright green leaves. The air smells fantastic. MacCready almost wants to abandon the group for a moment to see what the cafeteria looks like, but he reminds himself why he's there.

MacCready's bullet smashes into a gen. 2 synth, taking it one in one hit. He fires again, and another one goes down. The third begins to run away, but he takes that one down too.

The Minutemen begin to scatter into different parts of Institute as soon as more synth guards are sent out. They all look the same; white outfits, same helmets, carrying those dumb laser rifles in their hands.

MacCready knows he'll do better if he can get somewhere high to snipe all of them out at a time. He finds a stairwell, heads up. He sees a slew of apartments. Busts through one of the doors, and is overjoyed to find it's empty. Going on the balcony, he looks through his scope and brings a Courser into the sight, swinging the red crosshairs back and forth and up and down its body. Then - he presses down on the trigger, laying a barrage of bullets down on it. _Pop-pop-pop!_

A few more Coursers come out of hiding. MacCready shoots them out immediately, smiling to himself as he gets the better of them.

Eventually, the main hall looks to be cleared. He looks away from the scope and can see Preston waving him down from the balcony. He rushes down the stairwell and meets Garvey, who tells RJ the hardest part was almost done now that this area's been cleared. MacCready nods, looking around, still paranoid there were going to be enemies in the shadows.

That's when he locks eyes on one. There's a synth coming out of Robotics, only he isn't alone. He's carrying out a little kid. Maybe ten years old. MacCready furrows his brow, moving forward. _That's gotta be Shaun._

Whoever the synth was, RJ had his orders. The synth crouches outside of Robotics setting the boy down, who looked asleep. MacCready holds up his pistol, lining up the hairs to aim.

If they had Shaun, Elenora wasn't far behind. But whatever the case, they had her kid.

And whatever the cost, he was going to protect that.

* * *

I set Shaun down outside the door to Robotics. I run a hand through his hair, admiring him for a moment. A single bright spark of hope shoots through me. It was like having a face behind the reason we were all here.

I pull off my helmet, and second I do, I hear MacCready call my name. He rushes towards me, enveloping me in a big hug. "You're okay!"

I chuckle, despite everything. "I see you brought the Minutemen here alright."

MacCready laughs in relief, then shakes his head. "What are you wearing?"

"I found the armory," I say. "Figured they wouldn't miss it."

He gawks, his eyebrows shoot up.

I laugh nervously, "What? Not a good look for me?"

"No! Um…" He shakes his head and moves on. "We've gotta get to the reactor, Preston's got this bomb. We need to stick it on there, then we can leave."

"What's the hold-up?"

Like he could hear us, Sturges' voice beeps in through the PA system. " _General? There's a bit of a problem. We have to go through Advanced Systems to get to the reactor. But the doors are locked. The only way to access it is in the Director's personal terminal_."

I exchange a look with MacCready. "That's where…" I look down at the little boy in my lap. "I'll go."

"I'll come with you," MacCready offers immediately.

"No," I shake my head. "I need you to take care of the kid. Make sure everyone gets out alright," I slide my arms under the child and RJ takes him. "I need do this alone," I murmur.

I turn my head and nod to Preston. "Get our soldiers ready when that door opens up!" I say. He nods, and I jog over to the elevator, taking it up.

The glass cylinder slides down the floor, taking me down. Not knowing what to expect, I take out my 10mm, hiding it behind my back as I go up to his room, up the stairs.

I see him in the room, he's laying down on a hospital bed. In his hand, my Pip-boy. His eyes flick over to me. He exhales a large breath.

I approach, not knowing what to say. In the corner, there lies the terminal. Yet I can't go to it yet. As if fate pushed us to be alone together for one last time, I walk right up to his bed.

It hangs in the air - the tension was thick and darkly present.

"Hi," I murmur, barely above a whisper. My hand runs along the bed frame. My eyes flick to the Pip-boy. A few moments pass. "You must've listened to his tape, then?"

He picks up the Pip-boy, running his thumb along the monitor. "Strange," he says slowly, his voice hoarse. "To hear his voice after all these years… To know… you two loved each other. To think I'm only learning it at the end of my life."

I look at him, trying to gauge his emotions. "'Are you sick?" I ask, my voice raising.

"Don't pretend like you care," he spits. Looking away, he's shaking his head slowly. "You never… The Institute was a means to an end to you. It was my life's work, and you're _destroying_ it..."

"Shaun—"

"I don't care how you've justified it."

The moments that pass afterward are painfully slow and unnerving. I look over to the terminal, sensing an end in the conversation. I head over, accessing the terminal, I open the doors to Advanced systems.

Over the speakerphone, Sturges confirms it's worked and tells me to go to the reactor immediately. I'm about to leave, but Shaun speaks again. This time, a vulnerability in his voice I've never heard.

"When I was a child, I dreamed of what you and my father were like," he says. "I would tell the other children in the Institute stories about who you were, even when I couldn't have known. I knew of your fates—that my father perished in the vault, although you were alive. Still, all the while I couldn't help but think if you loved me. If somehow, _you_ thought of _me_ too."

He waves his hand in the air, "Then one day, I simply just… forgot. I had my own life in the Institute. I'd put away those childish things." Shaun pulls out the Pip-boy, and clicks on the holotape player, popping out Nate's tape. "Until the day my doctor told me I had cancer. And then... All the memories came back. Then I knew I… I couldn't leave this world without knowing who you were. I had to. It was the only thing I wanted…"

I look at him for a moment, piecing it together. "What did you—" Then, it clicks. I stare at him in shock. "You're the one who woke me up," I say slowly. " _You_ let me out of cryo?"

"—You survived," he cuts in. "You managed to go beyond surviving, more than I ever expected, you… even infiltrated the Institute to find me," a small chuckle on his lips, shaking his head at the incredulity of it.

I walk right up to his bed, and I'm seething. "Everything I've gone through. It was all because you wanted to see if I'd live or die. Like some game." A better word comes to mind. "An experiment."

"I saved you from cryogenic stasis," Shaun defends. "You could have been in there forever, forgotten by time had I not intervened."

"Saved," I echo, huffing mirthlessly. "You've _damned_ me."

Shaun grimaces, turning his head away. "Perhaps I have damned myself too." He murmurs. "Here I lay… and the only reason for my downfall is because I trusted you. I suppose the only thing I can do in the end is to blame myself… and hate you."

Shaun shakes his head, scowling. "Why are you still here?" He growls lowly. "Get out."

 _That's a good question, Elenora. Why are you still here?_ "Because you're going to tell me something."

Shaun sighs exasperated, " _what_?"

I put my hand on his bed frame, get in his face, wait until he looks at me. Then, when he meets my eyes: "I know you programmed that synth to blindly believe he's my son. But here's the catch; he wasn't programmed until after I was banished. _Why_?"

* * *

Synth Shaun wakes up with a gasp, his torso bending upwards. His eyes search his surroundings wildly. MacCready tries to calm down, telling him to breathe. The kid looks at him, frowning. "I need to find my mom," his voice whimpers.

MacCready huffs from the irony. _He sounds just like her_. "I know her, but we've got to get you out of here."

He shakes his head vehemently, but before the kid could say anything else a Minutemen soldier's voice rings out:

" _The doors are opening_!"

He looks up, then back down at Elle's kid—synth—whatever. In one fluid motion, he pulls the boy up by his wrists and yanks. Shaun flies into his arms and RJ rushes towards Advanced Systems with the other Minutemen. One group heads towards the reactor room to plant the bomb, but MacCready knows she's not going to like the both of them going that way. He follows another small group back up to the relay room.

MacCready carries Shaun and rushes through the hallways, the alarm blaring in their ears. From behind him, RJ can hear synths coming. Shots ring through the halls, blasts from their laser rifles hit a few Minutemen taking them down.

A synth tosses a grenade their way, and MacCready is the first one to see it clang down in front of him. In a split second, he hops over it, runs as fast as he can and—

The blast from the grenade, combined with the cramped hall hurls them into the air. He whips his body around as he falls, taking the force of the impact, not the kid.

A Minuteman in front of him takes a few shots and kills the remaining synths in the hallway. One threat down, another takes its place. The grenade's blast has caught fire, licking the walls with flames. MacCready scrambles up, ignores Shaun's yelling, and presses forward with the other soldiers towards the relay, carrying the kid all the way.

When they get there, Sturges is working at the terminal doing God knows what. Crap that MacCready would never understand. Now is not the time to dwell on it, however, he's got to calm down Elenora's screaming synth kid. He loves her, he does, but he'll never understand how he gets roped into half the crap she's involved in.

"Why are the synths trying to hurt us?" The first thing Shaun's blubbered out. His voice raises the more he talks, tears stinging his eyes. "I need to find my mom, I need to find her. I wanna go with her. I wanna go with—"

"She'll be here," he promises confidently. _She's just taking her sweet time…_ "In the meantime, you'll be fine. Okay? I'm going to keep you and her safe." It doesn't do a lick of good. His cheeks were turning red and tears have started to stream from panic. He doesn't know what else to do, so he wraps his arms around him, holding his head. In response, Shaun wraps his arms around him do, sniffling into his shoulder. "We're gonna get you out, bud."

Before he can respond, a couple more Minutemen burst through the relay room, Preston leading the group. "The bomb is on the reactor, let's go," he says, jogging in.

Sturges nods, "I've found a safe place to detonate, we'll relay there."

The synth tugs on MacCready's duster. "A _bomb_?"

MacCready ignores him for a moment, "We've got to wait for Elenora," he says. "She's not here yet."

Sturges frowns, "She should've been here by now…"

A sinking feeling manifests in MacCready's stomach. His palms feel clammy almost immediately. "I'll go back for her," he says, running towards the elevator.

"Hold on—" Sturges says.

"Wait!" Shaun runs over to him, "I wanna go with you!"

"No," MacCready says. "Stay here," he exchanges a pleading glance with Preston.

Preston nods back, "I'll take care of him."

"What?" Shaun protests. "No, I wanna come with you! I wanna make sure she's okay!" His voice cracks slightly.

MacCready isn't paying attention any longer. He rushes over to the elevator, pressing the button impatiently. Finally, it arrives, and he slams the button over and over again until the glass door enclose him and he glides down the shaft.

He unhooks the rifle strap from his shoulder, finger hovering above the trigger. As the elevator comes out of the dark and back into the light, he sees the chaos left in the Institute. Coursers, synths, they litter the floors. Small fires have begun in a few apartments. The glass bridge around the waterfall has completely smashed. _Elenora was in there._ His grip on the gun tightens. He's lost someone before. It'll be a cold day in hell before it happens again.

The elevator slides down to another level, one he hasn't been in yet. Nowhere else to go, he travels down the surprisingly short hall to another elevator. He takes that one, too.

The next room he comes to feels like a crime scene. There's a glass cage, with what looks like a kid's room inside. Vases are shattered on the ground, furniture has been toppled over and discarded.

Upstairs, he hears sounds. Voices. He points his muzzle up and heads up the stairs.

And there she is, standing above an old man in a bed. He walked into the middle of a conversation. He looks at the man again. _Is that Shaun?_ He didn't know what he expected.

She's holding his hands, whispering something to him. MacCready's moves slightly, his footsteps echo, interrupting her. She whips around, startled.

He pauses, feeling like he's interrupted something, but he continues on. "Elenora, we have to go. _Now_."

"MacCready," Elenora says, slightly alarmed. "This is…"

She doesn't have to finish the sentence. He knows.

Elenora turns back to her son. Shaun must see that Elenora wants to keep talking, but he's finished. "There's nothing left to discuss," he says, turning his head. "I want to spend my last moments alone."

Elenora nods solemnly, standing up.

"But I hope one day you'll realize what's been lost here," he snarks. "Humanity's best hope, and you'd torch it."

MacCready touches her shoulder. She resists for a moment, something's caught her eye. That damned stuffed bear on his desk. She looks between Shaun and the bear for a moment and takes the bear with her.

They run together, hand-in-hand towards the main floor."We're almost there!" He says to her, squeezing her hand. "Just up the elevator!"

Elenora begins to slow down when they reach the main hall. Then she tugs on his arm, causing him to stop. "Oh, my _god_ ," she shudders behind him.

MacCready turns around, annoyed, "Elle, c'mon we have to—"

He sees what she's looking around. A dead Minuteman soldier. She won't move. "He's not…" The words fade off her tongue.

The alarm overhead blares and he wonders how she even has time to think about it. He tries his best to block the soldier with his body and takes her away.

He pulls her into the elevator, riding up the shaft. Sturges yells at them to get in the relay, and all the other Minutemen are in there, too. But all of it sounds slightly muted, and out of focus. Like it wasn't real. This wasn't _happening_ , after everything they'd been through, they couldn't possibly be _done_.

Preston pops out of the crowd of Minutemen soldiers. "General, it's time to leave."

Right then, Shaun pokes his head out of the crowd of soldiers. "Mom!" he cries, wrapping his arms around her waist.

She hugs him back but exchanges a look with MacCready. Her mind was elsewhere. MacCready couldn't help but think it was still back up in that room, where Shaun was. The real one.

Then Sturges announces he's locked on a target and rushes into the relay with the rest of them. "Now everybody stay still! We're almost home free…"

It takes a moment, but when it starts MacCready knows immediately. The relay feels like tiny pinpricks are poking every inch of his body and zapping him simultaneously. He closes his eyes, hoping it'll make the rush going smoother.

In a blast of blue light, he feels weightless for a moment, then when he opens his eyes again, he's on top of a skyscraper, higher than he's ever been. Rain pours down in thick sheets. He raises his arm to shield it, and when he lowers it again, Elenora is on the edge of the building, her hand hovering over a button. She's gazing out at the horizon.

He walks over, touches her shoulder. She looks at him, her face is contorted by pain and fear and rage. The anger rooted in the past. Where she has just left her son, but her son will never leave her. He would always be with her until she took her last breath. That sort of guilt stays with you long after it happens. MacCready would know. He's not the exception, he's the rule to that kind of guilt.

"You don't have to be the one to do it," he says. "Out of all of us, it shouldn't be you."

She shakes her head, her lips pressed together, quivering. "No, RJ," she says. "It needs to be."

The words burn deep into his mind. He doesn't think he'll ever forget her saying that to him. That poor, miserable duty she was tied to. She turns back to the button, takes a deep breath and slams her thumb down.

The world went breathless. Even the rain seemed to hang suspended in the air.

The earth below CIT bulges like a balloon inflating and snaps back. The middle of CIT blew apart in a blinding fireball of white. The ground shuddered. Air rushed into the vacuum, knocking out buildings near it. A mushroom cloud booms, reaching into the sky, and suspending there.

 _Welcome to Timbuktu._

* * *

Some tragedies take no effort at all to happen. One moment, life is perfect and normal and everything we expect it to be. And then it changes in an instant, whether or not you're ready.

Other tragedies though only exist because we have ushered them into our world. Tragedies that couldn't have existed without some sort of personal involvement. This tragedy is one of them. I can't decide which one is worse.

It takes a while for the debris to settle. I don't tear my gaze from it, not once during the entire time it crumbles and corrodes. I feel like I should be crying. The more compassionate side of me wants to burst into tears and sob until my lungs burn. But there is an emotion that overpowers it, forcing me to take a breath and stare at the destruction.

Relief.

Smoke plums in the sky, drifting there. The rain begins to subside, only pattering lightly. The debris will settle. The rain will wash away the scorched ground. It's almost dawn; The sun will rise again.

After a few minutes, MacCready says, "I'm sorry about your son."

I take a deep breath, eyes never leaving the CIT crater. "My son has been dead for a long time, Mac," I murmur. "He just has a grave now."

We don't look at each other. For a while, we watch the plumage of smoke dissipating in the rain.

"I can't believe we actually did it," MacCready mutters.

When I don't answer, RJ simply wraps a free hand around mine, and I squeeze it thankfully.

"What did he say to you?" RJ asks. "Before I came in, you looked… remorseful."

I turn my head back to little synth Shaun being looked after by Preston. "It was Shaun's last request," I tell him. "That I look after him."

MacCready raises his eyebrows, then he asks in a whisper, "does he know that he's…"

I shake my head, "no."

MacCready pauses, digesting it. "When are you gonna tell him?"

I look back at RJ. "When I know he'll be able to handle it."

He gives me a look.

"I _will_ ," I press. "I promise, I just...want him to adjust to it all first. He's been through more than any kid should."

I look over back at the kid and he locks eyes with me. Shaun walks over and wraps his arms around my torso. I look back towards the rubble of the Institute.

Shaun told me that I would never realize what was truly lost today, but he didn't know that the future he wanted was already behind him. 'Future's best hope for humanity' he called it, but never did that hope touch the Commonwealth at all. It endangered. It kidnapped. It murdered and it stole life's most precious things. For now, it's been stopped. Today, we'll rest easy knowing the boogeyman won't be hiding in any more shadows. Tomorrow, we'll see about making something worthwhile from the ash.

RJ wraps his arm around my shoulder, I curl into him as he kisses my forehead. I hold onto Shaun. And together, the three of us watch the sun break over the horizon, obliterating the dark in a burst of golden light.

"We'll be alright," MacCready tells me.

I look at him, my lips curl gently into a smile. "Yes," I murmur. "For the first time in a long time, I think we will be."

 **EIGHT MONTHS LATER**

" _Alright, uhh… So, in the spirit of the holiday, I will be playing some more of this music tonight. You know, heh, I just like this kind of music.…. Not that anyone…. Would care… what I THINK! ….Um… So how about some music? Let's hear from some Ella Fitzgerald, 'Have Yourself A Merry Christmas'…_ "

Travis Miles's broadcast sends jazz music pouring into the home. I'm adjusting an earring in, strolling pass the bathroom as I hear my name called.

"Mom? Can you help me?"

I pop my head in the bathroom and find Shaun struggling with his tie. A sloppy knot seems to choke his neck. I chuckle faintly and stroll in. "I thought MacCready taught you how to do this," I say, pulling at the knot to undo it.

Shaun fidgets as I help him. "I think I forgot a step."

"And added a few others?" I ask, trying to figure how to fix it.

Shaun shrugs, tilting his chin up higher.

There's a knock at the door. I turn my head and find RJ at the doorway, admiring us."Almost ready?"

I nod, "almost. Can you see if Duncan has his shoes on?"

He pats the doorway and leaves, heading down the hallway. I finish pulling Shaun's tie through the last hole and slide the knot up to his collar. "There we go. _Very_ handsome," I say, smoothing out his shirt.

"It's too tight," he fidgets pulling at the collar. "It's not fair—Duncan doesn't have to wear a tie."

As if on cue, Duncan rushes into the room, tugging on the hem of my skirt. "You guys are taking a really, _really_ long time."

I scoop him up in my arms, grinning. "You sound like your dad."

He giggles, and I rest him on my hip, checking my reflection. Scavenged red lipstick, shorter hair, and pearl earrings. There's a touch of ' _pre-war_ ' in how I look, but I'll never look the same. I used to think this was a bad thing.

I head out of the room, bobbing Duncan up. He wraps an arm around my shoulder. "Will there be cookies?"

I nod, "lots of cookies. Fancy Lads. You love those, right kiddo?"

"Not as much as Shaun," Duncan says. "Shaun can eat whole boxes and _boxes_ …"

I laugh faintly, and MacCready comes in the room, shrugging on his suit coat. He takes Duncan from my arms, "You behaving for her, champ?"

Duncan nods fiercely, wrapping his arms around his neck, laying his head on his shoulder.

"Hey," I murmur, smiling. "I like you in a suit."

MacCready's eyebrows raise, his lips curl upwards. "You look nice too, knockout."

I put a hand on his cheek, and lean in to kiss him, happiness running giddily through me down to my toes.

Duncan's head pops up over his head and he wrinkles his nose, "gross."

I smile at him, then look around admiring the house. The living room glitters with lights from the Christmas tree, the house decorated with pre-war decorations. The pantry is filled, ready for the feast tomorrow.

Codsworth pops out of the laundry room, "All ready for the party then, Mum?" His arm motors hold out my coat.

I smile gratefully. "Thanks, Codsworth," I say as he comes up behind me, shrugging the coat on my arms.

"It's Christmas Eve, you know," Codsworth beeps. "Can't have you catching a cold a before tomorrow's festivities. That'd be positively _dreadful_!"

"I know, I know…" I chuckle.

"Where's Shaun?" MacCready asks.

"I'll get him," I say, heading back down the hallway. Shaun's old nursery—their shared room—is littered with comics, toys, scavenged crayons. All of them. The walls hang their drawings, and doorframes mark their heights; Duncan, growing slightly every month. Shaun, remaining his same height, but still asking to be measured.

Shaun is crouched at the end of his bed, pulling out something wrapped in old newspaper. "Present for someone?" I ask, knocking on the door.

Shaun turns to me and tries to stuff it in his jacket but it's too big. "It's for Duncan," he says.

"We can put it under the tree tonight," I offer, holding my hand out. He gets up and comes with me. My arm wrapped around his shoulder, and together the four of us leave for the party.

Sanctuary has grown over the months. Both to be a peaceful home to settlers seeking refuge with the Minutemen, and to be a playground for the boys. Christmas lights line the streets, glowing against the Commonwealth's white powder and the cooling night.

I link an arm around MacCready as we walk, smiling at Duncan when he looks at me.

MacCready and I left for Capital Wasteland by caravan only a few days after the initial destruction. We took Shaun to meet Duncan and stayed for a few weeks. But in the end, we realized our lives were back in the Commonwealth. Preston gave up the title of General back to me and happily became a Lieutenant, claiming it suited him better.

At the mess hall, an open bar is welcoming to the settlers of Sanctuary. A much needed party after the brutal winter following. In the end, putting on the party was half my idea, and mostly the settlers. As they say often, quoting their General, " _Nothing bad happens on Christmas_!"

There's, of course, a section for the kids. Nuka Cola's packed with snow to keep ice-cold. A pot of hot chocolate boils over a working stove. And a table full of treats everyone pitched in for. Christmas music from Diamond City radio plays on the counter. There's a group of people dancing in the middle of the mess hall. They've made room by pushing tables aside. But mostly, everyone stays on the sidelines, enjoying food, happy to talk about anything other than farming.

Shaun and Duncan rush off the moment we come in. "Take it easy on the sugar!" I call after them, but they hardly hear.

MacCready wraps an arm around my waist, "Let 'em have their fun. We'll keep an eye on them."

I nod, eyes lingering on their heads bobbing through the settlers. "Okay. You're right."

In the corner of the room, Marcy Long waves us over. We come over and see her bouncing baby Jane in her arms. Now eight months old, babbling and sucking on her fist.

"Jun and I just wanted to say thank you for the party," Marcy says. She must feel it seeming too happy because immediately after says, "Reminds us this place isn't a _total_ failure."

I smile, realizing that was about as much as I'd get out of her. "How's the baby?"

"Tiring," Marcy says quickly. Her eyes soften, "And a really good change of pace."

I smile at her, but more at the baby, who was growing well. Chubby pink cheeks. Huge blue eyes. Marcy and Jun Long's favorite person in the world. And the other settlers, too. Everyone's been asking for turns to hold her all night.

A new song starts playing, and MacCready tugs me towards the dance floor. I excuse myself and join him on the dance floor, putting a hand on his shoulder. He tugs me closer, his hand on my back. His eyes matching my eyes, his smile matching my smile.

"Look at you," I grin. "Being romantic and shit."

"Language," he reminds me, half-joking.

"Right," I say. "Kids are nearby."

We chuckle and continue swaying to the music. The song is telling us how to move. The song is guiding his hands to my back, to my waist. The song is pulling me closer. The song, and his eyes. Then a new song. And we're still dancing together.

MacCready starts to hum to the tune, and that makes me happy. I chuckle, and he asks what I'm giggling about.

"Nothing," I murmur. "I'm just happy. Holidays do weird stuff to people, you know that."

He laughs and leans down enough to press his lips against mine. I run my hand up from his shoulder to his cheek to pull him closer. When we break away, I lay my chin on his shoulder, swaying to the music.

For a few minutes, I lose track of time, of what I'm thinking. The worries of our daily lives and just let myself be in the moment. "I love you," I murmur on his sleeve.

And MacCready, who's said it back many times before now, without skipping a beat: "Love you, too, knockout."

After a few moments, there's a small tugging on the hem of my skirt. I look down and see Duncan smiling at us. In his hands, he's holding a ratty old Mr. Bear.

I bend down to pick him up, "What've you got there?"

"Shaun gave it to me," he says, burying his face in the plush. "He said it's my Christmas present."

My heart flutters slightly. Shaun loved Mr. Bear, and he gave it up to him. I look around the room, scanning for him. "Where is he?"

Duncan shrugs, petting the top of Mr. Bear's head. I look at MacCready, suddenly concerned. "Do you mind…?"

MacCready shakes his head, taking Duncan from me. "As long as you're coming back," he winks. I kiss his cheek quickly and go to grab my coat.

There's only one place in Sanctuary Shaun goes when he runs off by himself. I should know, Sturges and I spent a full week on it.

I head down the cul-de-sac towards the big tree in the middle of the room. There's a ladder that scrapes the ground, connected to his little tree house.

"Shaun?" I call.

Shaun's head pops out from the ledge. "Hi, mom."

"Can I come up?"

Shaun looks back at his fort, weighing in his mind for a moment, then gives me a nod. "Okay."

I climb up, and find his things sprawled across the floor; comics, action figures, tools and an old telescope MacCready and I scavenged last month.

He's sitting on his sleeping bag, a copy of Grognak on his lap, lit by his lantern. I sit down next to him, raising an arm. Shaun cushions his head against my shoulder, returning to his comic.

"Any good?" I ask, looking down at the comic.

He nods, humming satisfaction. "Grognak's got to save his girlfriend from these bad guys-" he says, pointing to a villainous-looking character on the page. "And he's got to get help from these bat-babies…"

I nod slowly, reading with him for a few minutes. After a while, I speak. "I saw you gave Duncan your teddy bear," I tell him. "That was a very nice thing you did for him. I know he'll like it."

"I got too old for Mr. Bear. I'm getting big," he says assuredly. "Duncan still likes that stuff."

I chuckle and let him go on. "I told him his name was Mr. Bear, but he wants to call him Teddy."

I don't skip a beat, "Maybe Teddy is his first name?"

Shaun shrugs. "Maybe. But Duncan does that a lot."

"He names stuffed animals?"

He gives me a look. "He likes doing stuff when I tell him not to," Shaun scowls. "Like touching my stuff or... stealing Fancy Lad cakes."

"He gets his rebellious streak from his dad," I chuckle. "He's a little kid, Shaun. He'll learn, don't worry."

"MacCready said that too," Shaun points out. "But I wasn't like that when I was a kid…" Shaun trails off. "Well, I don't _think_ I was. I can't remember... Was I like that, mom?"

The laughter fades from my lips. Eight months he's been out of the Institute. And for eight months I still haven't found the words to tell him what he was. Every night since, I've lain awake thinking how to say it and imagine how he'd react. _Tonight_ , I think. _Tonight, I'll tell him_. But I have told myself this every night since the Institute was first destroyed.

I nod my head, pursing my lips together. "Honey… disobeying is the most human thing we can do," I finally say. "What matters is trying to learn from it."

Shaun pauses to think about this for a second, "I guess so."

He shivers, going back to read his comic.

"Are you cold?" I ask, beginning to shrug off my coat and wrapping it around his shoulders. He takes it thankfully, burrowing his nose in its warmth. "Maybe we should get you inside… There's some hot chocolate left from the party I could heat up for you."

"I wanna stay out here for a little while," Shaun murmurs.

I frown, brushing back some of his hair. "Is... everything alright, Shaun?"

He hums affirmatively, but reading him has become easy to me.

So I wait. I know he'll say it eventually if I don't push.

After a few moments, he speaks; What he's thinking is too big to keep in his own mind. "Did… Did dad like Christmas, too? Did he get excited like you?"

Ah. I grab his hand, rubbing his knuckles with my thumb. It's a strange thing to know someone gave you life, and not have any idea of who they were. "Do you think about him often?" I ask softly, feeling a little guilty.

"Sometimes," Shaun murmurs.

I continue rubbing his hands. "Honey, he _loved_ it," I tell him. Then, I chuckle in remembrance. "Our first Christmas after we got married, we didn't have a lot yet so I got us this tiny little tree we put on our coffee table. It wasn't much, but it ours."

I wanted Shaun to smile at the story, but his bottom lip starts to quiver. He's seen so little of how everything in his life came to be, and cannot even begin to guess Nate's courage or loveliness.

Shaun wipes his eyes with the back of his sleeve, looking away from me. Without hesitation, I pull him into my arms. "Oh, kiddo." I hold him tight, resting my head on his. Shaun sniffles quietly.

"Sorry," he murmurs. "It's not like I knew him. I don't know why…"

I kiss the top of his head and sit there with him for a moment. "I miss him, too."

I wait until I have something good to say. "I don't think you know how loved you are," I murmur. "You have to know how much I love you, right? And... even if he's not here, your dad just adored you. And so does MacCready. And Duncan and Preston... _Heh_ , Sturges would adopt you if he could."

Shaun lets out a small chuckle. I do too and hold him there for a little while longer. From the distance, Christmas music can still be heard playing like a lullaby from the mess hall.

 _Silent night, holy night._

 _All is calm, all is bright._

We sat in the treehouse, overlooking Sanctuary. And I finally tell him the story about his grandparents, his aunt—and most importantly, his father who loved him beyond words that he sacrificed himself for his life.

I tell him about the world before. I tell him that the world broke, and ever since the destruction of the Institute, waiting for us to make it into something good.

"Something good?" Shaun asks. "How?"

I take his hand and put it on his chest. "With this." I can feel his heart pounding away fiercely ahead of his palm. "Right here."


End file.
